Succumb
by KorrohShipper
Summary: Everyone has it but no one can lose it? Shadows? No, you can lose your shadows at night or inside a very dark room. So what is it, what does everyone have and yet no one can lose it? Demons.
1. PROLOGUE

**This multi-chapter story will serve as a sequel to the "Powerless" trilogy. I do recommend that, before reading this pitiful excuse for a fanfiction for TW, you glance over the said previous work because it'll make a hell lot more sense. Happy reading!**

* * *

 _ **SUCCUMB — PROLOGUE**_

* * *

The lacrosse field.

There was nothing particularly exceptional or special about the Beacon Hills High School's field and other than it being exposed to one or two games which had supernaturals trying to kill one another, there was nothing that really set it apart from other school's playing fields. But as Scott stood in front of the field alone, wearing his lacrosse jersey with his crosse in hand, he wondered why the hell he was there in the first place and why it was lit up like a game was about to be played.

Scott looked around, trying to make sure that there was no one there beside him. It was very dark, even Scott's other eyes couldn't see a soul. He didn't know why he had to look around, actually, because he there wasn't a single heart beat he could hear. It was strange because he _really_ felt like there was someone watching his every move.

Stepping into the middle of the field, Scott heard something go ' _whoosh_ ' behind him. Turning around, he saw the damned tree stump.

The Nemeton was in front of Scott, ruining the beautifully maintained grass of the lacrosse field. Scott would have chuckled when he remembered Coach if the whole situation isn't so mysterious and scary—he'd have a field day with the stump ruining all the practice he had in plan.

Stepping forward to reach it, trace its rings like he did back in purgatory, Scott felt something stopping him like a gut feeling. It kept pulling down in his stomach and he couldn't deal with it, like it was diarrhea or a stomach bug. The feeling was becoming more and more intense as the minutes passed when Scott remembered that it never did stop, the horrible pulling in the pit of his stomach. Scott paled when he remembered when it had started—purgatory, the Nemeton.

Taking a step back, Scott breathed in, trying to figure out why he was there in the first place.

"It could be dream, Scott," a voice rang in his head, a painfully familiar voice.

After some moments, Scott understood and held his hands in front of him. "That was Stiles," he reminded himself as he began to count. "Your best friend telling you to shut up and count your bloody fingers—wait, bloody?" Scott stared at his fingers, wondering why he didn't feel his claws shooting out. He shook his head; it was a dream and he couldn't wake up until he counted his fingers. "One, two, three, four, five," Scott slowly raised his fingers, one by one.

Scott felt himself shiver when the cold wind blew against his back, whistling as it passed through. Scott remembered Jennifer, how she controlled the weather but immediately shook his head. They had defeated weeks ago. Peter even came up some a week after the whole battle, carrying with him a body bag. Scott didn't need to open the bag because he could smell the scent and he knew who it belonged to.

"Five, six, seven, eight, nine, and ten," Scott turned his hands around, his breathing quickening when he realized that he was still covered in blood. "What?" Scott recounted his fingers, wondering why it wouldn't work, why he wouldn't just wake up from the dream.

Shaking his head, Scott stared at his fingers. A part of him wondered if he had killed somebody but soon dismissed the thought. Scott knew that his eyes flashed red, that he's still a true alpha and that meant that nobody's blood had been spilled.

Knowing that he didn't kill an innocent person, Scott willed himself to transform, to shape-shift but he couldn't. But then Scott remembered that this was a dream, or something like a dream, so he tried to grow his fingernails so that he could dig them into his own palm—Scott doesn't really have an anchor to keep him grounded to humanity. He doesn't have Allison, not anymore but he knew another way to anchor him to humanity and that's pain.

Shitting his eyes closed to concentrate, Scott felt nothing change with his fingers. Opening his eyes, Scott stared at his bloody fingers and wondered why he couldn't shapeshift or at least control his powers. Fear coursed through his body knowing that while he didn't kill anybody, there's no promising that he would control the wolf inside of him or that he wouldn't anybody.

Suddenly, Scott breath fogged up. His skin was covered with goosebumps as he knew that the temperature suddenly dropped. Scott wasn't Lydia or Stiles but he knew that temperature wouldn't drop that fast, not under normal circumstances. Looking around with a thought on his mind, Scott knew that something supernatural caused the sudden change in temperature.

But he couldn't hear anything, not a heartbeat or breathing. Scott couldn't see anything and he grew more terrified as the moments passed.

Staring at his blood-soaked hands, Scott wondered if this was the Nemeton coming back to haunt him even after he escaped purgatory.

Scott shook his head, taking a step backwards. "I can't do this, not anymore," turning back, Scott began running but it seemed like the lacrosse field was endless. Scott felt like his lungs were on fire, his hands furiously trying to fish something out of his pocket like something was there to help ease the pain. Scott remembered Stiles, his best friend, telling him that it was a muscle reflex, probably used to the fact that whenever he felt the burning sensation, it was because he's having an asthma attack.

But then, Scott heard wood cracking, like a twig breaking in half under someone's foot. Looking back, Scott saw no one and he only saw the field when suddenly, he was transported into the woods. "Beacon Hills Preserve," Scott muttered to himself as he recognized the place, the familiar trail near the stream. A memory passed through his mind, reminding him of the times he'd go fishing with Stiles and the Sheriff on his free days.

But then, Scott heard it again, the wood cracking underneath this immense pressure. Resorting back to running, Scott felt wind collide against his face, getting cooled off with the thin sheet of sweat covering his skin. "Got to get away. Get to Stiles. _Get to Stiles_ ," Scott repeated the words like a chant, like a personal mantra or a prayer that'll save him from whatever's hunting him. Scott laughed bitterly, scoffing at the irony—the predator is turned into the prey, the hunter being hunted.

Still running as fast as he could, Scott suddenly plummeted to the ground, dirt entering in his mouth as he groaned in pain. His breath got caught in his throat because he knew that he didn't trip or fall over a rock or a twig—no, something held him back. It was like there was am invisible force field sent him crashing towards the ground. Caressing his shoulder, Scott hissed in pain when he saw blood caking his sleeve and when he peeked under the cloth.

Turning over so he can lay down on his back, Scott groaned in pain. Something had definitely caught him and pulled him back before slamming him to the ground. Looking over to his shoulder, he wondered why it wasn't healing.

Twigs were crackling again but Scott just laid down on the ground. " _Scott_ ," an eerie voice rang in the distance but Scott heard it perfectly thanks to his werewolf hearing even though he couldn't control. Standing up, Scott felt a sharp pain shoot through his ankle before yelling in pain. Glaring at his ankle for becoming sprained, Scott looked around before trying to limp away, his jaws grinding as he was determined to escape the preserve and get to _Stiles_.

Losing his footing on the ground, Scott fell and pain shot through his ankle again. "Gaah!" he yelled out loud, letting out a roar. "Fuck, fuck, _fuck_!" Scott cursed, tears threatening to spill. Scott was growing more terrified as the moment when he felt a presence behind him. He just wanted to be a student, to be the normal and heartbroken teenager who got dumped and not someone who has the burden of the world most of the time or someone constantly targeted by hunters.

Scott never thought that he'd miss Mr. Harris' extra work or Coach Finstock's yelling, telling him to run around the oval for another six times. He just want to stay in his room and play Mortal Kombat with Stiles until the sun comes peeking through the curtain and then they'd just stare each other, wondering why on Earth did they ended up playing all night and not studying for the exam they have with Mr. Fitz's English class that was promised to be _profoundly_ difficult.

Scott just wanted a break, but with the mysterious presence behind him with the eerie voice, he knew that it was a luxury just too much to ask for. " _Scott_ ," the voice sounded again and Scott shivered partly because of the extremely low temperature that California would never have under normal circumstances and mostly because the voice creeped him out. " _Scott_ ," there it was again, the eerie voice that gave him the chills. " _What gets wetter the more it dries_?" Scott froze.

Half-expecting a killing blow, Scott stared at the sky, unable to look at the person behind him. "What?" it was a riddle, Scott realized that much, but what he didn't know was why the figure was making him answer a riddle. "Gets wetter the more it dried?" Scott murmured the question to himself, obviously in shock. "I. . . _I_ don't know. I don't what that is, I don't know what you're talking about," Scott said quickly, barely catching a breath of air as he rushed the words out of his lips.

The figure circled around Scott, settling to stand in front of him. Finally, Scott got a better look at his attacker and realized that it was the same shadow figure from purgatory except he saw more details than before. Before, Scott thought that only his head was covered in bandage but now, with the figure standing in front of him, he realized that his whole body from the waist up was covered in bandage with blood stains seeping through. For a moment, Scott forgot that the figure attacked him and actually felt sorry for him.

Studying his clothes, Scott saw the faded olive green of the jacket and realized the adornments meant that the man in front of him was once part of the army as a medic. Scott's brows furrowed in confusion— _what did a soldier have to do with the supernatural?_ —until his eyes spotted a small inscription on on where the medals and ribbons would be. Despite his his werewolf vision, Scott couldn't read the letters and it looked like a blurred, black line to him. Squinting his eyes, Scott finally saw what it read.

 **US ARMY**  
 **CORPORAL R. JAMESON**

Scott took a closer look and realized that the uniform was from a time near World War II. The part that caught Scott's attention most was the bandaged head—a small hole was cut for the mouth, Scott guessed, and the layers of bandage was soaked in blood. "Hey," Scott spoke up, his voice low and gentle, trying not to be hostile and trying to hide how terrified he was. But it was all for nothing because the figure, Jameson, stomped his foot on Scott's sprained ankle. "Aaah!" Scott yelled out in pain, roaring for a second as he saw blood and he wanted to kill.

But he fought the blood lust, digging his hand into a sharp rock that eventually drew blood and kept him human.

The figure's chest heaved, his voice raspy. " _What gets bigger the more you take away_?" the eerie voice again, but Scott wouldn't answer. He _couldn't_ answer, not when searing pain shot through his ankle and Scott only whimpered in pain, groaning helplessly as he laid in the ground. The urge to kill grew more and more as Scott kept slamming his hand on the sharp rock. Jameson wasn't please so he leaned down, dangerously close to his ear and Scott could feel his breath on his skin. " _What gets bigger the more you take away_?" Jameson asked slowly in calm but dangerously low tone that terrified Scott even more.

For a few seconds, Scott didn't answer but when pressure on his ankle started to build up more, Scott yelled out in pain. "I don't know!" Scott was frustrated as hell when pain shot through him. "Aah!" Scott squeezed his eyes shut and kept pounding his free hand on the ground as Jameson kept him pinned down. "Stop!" Scott yelled on the top of his lungs and roared. It was so loud that Jameson actually stopped pressing on his sprained ankle.

For a second, Scott could breathe as he thought that maybe he could reason with Jameson. But that was a gamble, so Scott decided to play along with Jameson's game and answer his riddles. Scott racked his brain to find an answer for Jameson, who looked at him with his head tilted to the side, as if to say that he expected an answer soon and if he couldn't deliver. . .well, Scott didn't want to know what would happen to him if he didn't give an answer.

In what seemed to be the longest minute of his seventeen years of existence, Scott finally came up with an answer. It was a hole, because the more your take away from a hole, the bigger it gets. After trying— _and failing_ —to come up with better answers other than a hole, Scott finally looked at Jameson, ready to tell him. "It's a—" but Scott never got to say the answer because Jameson slammed his hand into his stomach. "Aah!" at first, Scott thought that it was just a really strong sucker punch but it wasn't.

Scott raised his raised, trying to see what took him so long to heal, what kind of punch would him breathless until he saw Jameson's hand sticking out of his stomach. "When is a door not a door?" Jameson pointed at his head, but Scott felt dizzy because of the amount of blood he's losing. It's not like he didn't want to answer, it's just that he couldn't. Slowly, Scott was losing of himself—he's not just hanging by a thread to his life, but his sanity and his control on the predator within him.

Jameson slashed his throat and Scott began to cough up blood, his stomach's wound still oozing with blood, hurts like hell, too. "Please," Scott said, his voice soft and barely above a whisper. It was funny because Scott never thought that he'd beg for his life after he made a truce with Argent.

Jameson shook his head, blood dripping out of his mouth before finally pulling his hand out of his stomach and standing up, leaving Scott to apply pressure on his wounds. ' _Scott, your losing too much blood_ ,' Stiles' voice rang in his head, telling him what was happening. Scott smiled at the thought of his best friend, always looking out for him even though he was the one who dragged him into this whole mess of things. And all of a sudden, the warmth Scott felt when he remembered his friend was replaced with angry thoughts.

Being a werewolf made Scott lose his life. _Allison_.

Scott wanted to kill Stiles, to make him feel the pain he's felt with everything the bite had caused. Scott wanted Stiles to suffer every heartbreaking decision he's made and the consequences he had to go through. But then a thought reminded Scott that if he hadn't been a werewolf, he'd lose so much people in life and he would have been the same, old Scott who couldn't see things the way they are now. Scott would take some things for granted and he would have never had this amazing relationship with the woman he loves or felt this friendship with her and with Lydia.

 _No_ , Scott though to himself, _it was worth it_. Scott immediately felt bad for wanting to kill the one person who's never left his side. _If it came to it_ , Scott thought to himself again, thinking now of protecting Stiles more than anything, _I would give my life if it would keep him safe_.

Scott was jarred from his somewhat cheesy reflection when Jameson knelt down and looked at him square in the eye. " _Everyone has it but no one can lose it_ ," Scott felt Jameson's long fingernails, almost like claws, at his neck, gripping it tightly making it so hard for him to breathe. " _What is it_?" despite the claws drawing blood from his throat, making Scott almost drown in his own blood, and the pain stopping him from thinking, he knew the answer to it.

"Shadows. Everyone has it, but no can lose it," Scott choked out, managing to sputter it before Jameson withdrew his claws and stared at him. Scott sighed, thinking it was finally over when he answered the riddle correctly. A soft whistle of wind sounded and Scott remembered his phone. _After all of this_ , a thought ran through Scott's mind, _I'll memorize every single riddle there is to find_.

Feeling his tissues slowly rebuilding themselves, Scott stared at Jameson, wondering why he did all of what he did. A part of Scott wanted to lunge at him and kill him now and then but he wouldn't. It's not worth it. "Listen, I'm not going to go after you. But you have to leave Beacon Hills," Scott was readying himself to stand up, to prop himself up using his elbows to tell Jameson that if he didn't leave, he'll hunt him down and maybe do what he's never done. But then, in a split second, Jameson lunged for his throat probably to slash it.

It was fast as lightning and after feeling the blood trickle down his face from slashing Jameson's throat, everything that Scott did was a blur. Feeling the power surge through his body, Scott finally understood why Peter began so much people around him. And if killing a random supernatural felt this good and healed him so much, then what would killing a fellow alpha feel like? Scott remembered Deucalion and thought of how he would kill him, rip him limb from limb.

Scott bared his fangs when he saw some rustling by the bushes near him. Jameson's limp body was on the ground as Scott left the scene but then he heard the wind carry a voice. He didn't really hear it because blood pounded in his ears when he spotted a boy, running around aimlessly trying to escape him. It was no use because Scott caught up to the boy and began slashing at his stomach. "Please, don't. . .you _don't_ want to do this," Scott threw the boy to the ground and ripped his throat out with his teeth.

Blood soaked the ground and Scott's shirt was stained crimson red. His eyes glowed red at the sight of the limp and lifeless body of the boy. Ready to leave, Scott noticed a small square piece of leather. Scott sniffed the air and scoffed, sneering at the dead boy's direction because it was fake leather and also because it reeked of him—a scent that was a cocktail of Red Bull, General Pharmaceuticals' Adderall, duct tape, and an old beaten down 1980 Jeep CJ-5—when the wind blew, which also opened up the wallet, showing the license and a 2x2 picture of Stiles Stilinski.

"Everyone has it but no one can lose it. What is it?" Scott had a dark and sadistic look on his face that would send Stiles' evil-o-meter through the roof. "Shadow?" the wind whistled when Scott sneered clawing at a tree bear him and laughing maniacally. "No. _Demons_ ," Scott corrected, walking towards Stiles' dead body and whispered in his ear even though he knew that Stiles would never hear it. Scott looked up to the skies and yelled. "You hear me? I'm a thousand years old! You can't kill me," Scott's red eyes glowed but the rest of his eyes were black, like the eyes of demon in a show he used to watch.

Finally regaining control of his powers, Scott watched his fingers as his claws grew in size before slashing multiple times at Stiles' throat, eventually decapitating him as a maniacal grin played on Scott's lips. "Everyone has demons, Stiles, a little bit of darkness that allows for even more darkness to thrive. Nobody could lose their darkness and their demons," Scott's mouth was filled with blood, his fangs dripping of it. "Why'd the hell you answer shadows?"

And Stiles woke up, feeling his father's arms restraining him form hurting himself. "Aah!" Stiles yelled at the top of his lungs, crying as tears streamed through his face. His Dad was aimlessly trying to soothe him. "Make it stop. Make it stop. _Make it stop_!" Stiles' hands found their way to his head, gripping the hair he had as he felt himself slowly go mad. Stiles thought of Scott and wondered if he was feeling the same thing or if he was going insane, he wanted to ask but a gut feeling told him that Scott was feeling this, too, and his pain was a whole lot worse than what he's having.

 _Scott_ , Stiles though to himself, defeated after everything that he's been through, _Scotty_.

 _What have I done_?

* * *

 _ **So this is the prologue for "Succumb". Although you don't have to read the three-shot, "Powerless", it is recommended because it will make a whole lot more sense to you if you did. So, I do not own Teen Wolf or any of the characters from said show. Reviews and favourites and follows are appreciated, I guess.**_

 _ **So yeah, get ready for a somewhat, but not really bumpy ride, I guess. AU Teen Wolf Season 3B with a mixture of Void(s?). Bye, I guess?**_


	2. CHAPTER I - SCOTT

**SUCCUMB**

 **"ANCHORS"**

 **CHAPTER I- SCOTT**

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Scott yawned as he stood in the kitchen, waiting for his water to boil.

Checking his watch, he groaned when he realized that it wasn't too far off the last time he checked. _It's still too early_ , Scott thought to himself as he walked towards the electric kettle, gripping the edge of marble counter top as tight as he could without breaking it. Turning his head to a side, Scott saw how much damage he had caused the kitchen the past few weeks because he had trouble with his balance. The counter by his side had its edges chipped off because sometimes, he couldn't control his strength.

Scott closed his eyes shut when a wave of dizziness came at him, enough to make him grip the edge tightly. But almost immediately, Scott loosened his grip on the edge. " _Scott_ ," he remembered his Mom's breathy chuckle when she helped him towards the sofa in the living room. " _I know that you're used to the fact that you have supernatural healing abilities but you have to remember that the house doesn't_ ," she joked around, trying to make the atmosphere lighter but it was no use, Scott could hear right through the joke that she was way too worried for him.

Especially when she saw the blood dripping from his hands.

Shaking the thought from his head, Scott took a look at his hands. While it wasn't soaked and dripping with blood, he did wound himself and drew specks of it. Scott sighed at the sight, wondering when it would finally become easy for him.

With the massive headaches, Scott felt so tired above it all. He's been sleeping less and less hours the past few weeks because the nightmares he get, the terrors he has to go through wouldn't let him. It was fucking hell for him, and he was a werewolf with healing powers. Scott wondered what it would be like for someone without his healing powers.

 _Stiles_.

Scott suddenly thought of Stiles above the noise the electric kettle made. His best friend is human and Scott knew that he was going through the same thing he is. Scott remembered when he visited Stiles the other day, he remembered that his best friend's scent smelled so bad—Scott could smell Stiles' mental and physical health deteriorating. Everything in the room reeked of Stiles' sweat and his chemo-signal. . .Scott could practically hear him yelling, struggling against the Sheriff's arms.

And then, Scott learned that Stiles had sleep paralysis, too, and that to wake up, he _literally_ had to scream himself awake.

With Scott, it was a bit different. He had sleep paralysis, too, but he didn't have to scream himself awake. Instead, Scott would often wake up after the part of his dream where he'd decapitating his best friend's head off his motionless body. Scott's body would jerk upwards, panting as he woke up. His eyes would glow red and he couldn't control himself. Scott would be covered in blood as his bed would be stained in deep, crimson red.

It turns out, Scott had been digging his claws into the palm of his hands. It happened so frequently that Scott eventually ran out of sheets and linens that he resorted to using the swivel chair inside his room and moved it to the bathroom— _just so that he wouldn't ruin the carpet_ —where he'd just stay up the whole night, sipping from his thermos and try his best to stay awake. He'd fail in the end, anyway, and he'd find himself sweating through his shirt like crazy and that the ground beneath him had blood pooling around.

Scott really wished that Deaton would find a way soon because if Stiles was going through this, then he has no idea how long he has until he breaks. Because right now, Scott feels like giving up and giving in and just lose control because it's been so hard on him. Right now, Scott has so much respect for Stiles because of how long he's managed to stay on top of everything that's been happening to them.

Them. . . _Allison_.

The news of him miraculously coming back to life was the talk of the town, everyone gossiping about how a regular teenage boy mysteriously died and came back. Scott didn't want to see questioning glances or the looks of pity, he just needed some time to himself so he avoided everyone, in general, including those who knew what happened to him. Scott knew that Stiles and Allison felt the same way so the next thing he's heard is that there are rumors going around town about them.

After the whole coming-back-to-life ordeal, Scott never really did manage to get a moment to talk with Allison after what had happened between them in purgatory. The whole confession, how she admitted that she never stopped loving him, that gave him so much joy and relief back then but right now, all Scott could think of was nothing but darkness. It was painful and hard for Scott to think of her so naturally, he thought that seeing her would be a whole lot worse.

So, Scott avoided Allison and he guessed that she knew what he was trying to do. Scott was thankful, of course, that she respected his wishes but what he didn't expect was that she sent someone to spy on him for her. Lydia would always end up on his doorstep, offering some kind of pastry with an outrageous price tag attached to it.

The little he knows of Allison's condition was from Lydia's vaguely worded messages. From what he remembered, Allison was being haunted by memories of her Aunt Kate. Scott shivered when he remembered Kate Argent—Scott gritted his teeth because he remembered that it was her fault as to why he became a werewolf in the first place.

 _She did this to me!_

Scott felt a sharp sting in the palm of his hands and quickly realized that he was gripping the edge of the counter top to hard and that he's made another dent. Scott sighed, groaning slightly when he realized that his Mom would see the little trail of blood his wound made. Crossing the room, Scott took a piece of tissue and started to wipe the floor, the tissue stained crimson red immediately.

Inspecting the damage done, Scott realized that it wasn't all that bad. In fact, his Mom would have to look at it real closely to see that he actually did ship off some of the marble. And if she did, he could easily lie and tell her that he had done that one about a few weeks ago.

But then again, there was someone who lived in the house who he couldn't fool.

Scott's eyes drifted upwards, the spot above the kitchen which happened to be the guest bedroom. Isaac would easily know that he was lying— _he's too tired to actually calm his heart beat down, to try and protect his lie from him_ —because he could hear his heart beat, he could smell the scent of fresh blood inside the kitchen, and he kept track of every time he broke something in the house after the incident on purgatory.

A part of Scott was glad that he kept Isaac away during the mornings. At first, Isaac would be with him, guarding him like any beta would but then Scott sent him off to Allison with the reason that she's a human and that maybe the Argents need more help than he does. And Scott believed that, he's a werewolf, after all, he can survive a few nights without sleeping. It'll be a fine preparation for college, even.

And besides, Scott knew that even though Isaac had no more-than-friendly feelings for Allison, he had a soft spot for her like he has with Lydia so he stayed at the Argents on the weekends but he would pop up every now and then to make sure that he's fine or something.

Scott could see it in Isaac. He's moved on from Allison. Scott could hear Isaac's heartbeat and he could say it confidently that Isaac's moved on from her but it doesn't really quite help him get rid of the image. Scott knew to himself that Allison and Isaac— _his friends_ —are his lifelines but whenever he's around her or whenever he tries to look back on memories he has with her, Scott is thrown overboard and the little control he has kept on himself is thrown out the window.

Then, all of a sudden, Scott heard a sharp whistle and bent his head down, closing his eyes shut when he realized that it was the water. Grabbing his mug and thermos, both of which were filled with a sachet of instant coffee, Scott poured a generous amount of water into both cups. Grabbing the lid of the thermos, Scott screwed the top on and placed it inside the water bottle compartment by the side of his bag.

Taking a slice of bread from a small air-locked container, Scott took a small piece of paper and wrote a note for his Mom, telling her that she shouldn't worry about him and that he'd leave a message once he'd get to school.

Finishing his cup of coffee, Scott placed the mug inside the sink before heading towards the living room where most of his stuff where.

Setting his bag down on the coffee table, Scott noticed that the sun was already up, beams of lights streaming in through the windows near him. Scott turned around, his head looking over both of his shoulders trying to find his books. Finally seeing the pile of textbooks, Scott managed to place it all inside his bag and zip it close without collapsing or gritting his teeth to get through a migraine.

Scott huffed, satisfied at what he had just achieved. Looking through the window, with the sun shining in his face, illuminating his skin, Scott realized that maybe he does have a chance. Maybe he and Stiles will get over this thing.

Slinging his back pack over his right shoulder, Scott grabbed the keys to his motorcycle and the helmet sitting next to it when he saw his shadow. At first, he thought it was some kind of trick of the light or some kind of illusion, but he he felt his claws unsheathe themselves. He did feel his nails grow longer and when he spotted his shadow, Scott would be fooling himself if he tried to convince himself that he was in control.

Shaking his head, Scott moved towards the door and heard some rusting in the kitchen. He sniffed the air and sighed. It was Isaac— _because of all the things he's thinking of, Scott could barely focus on his surroundings, he wouldn't even hear if someone was screaming his name_ —going through the cabinets.

Crossing the living room, Scott found Isaac with a mug in his hand and a quizzical look on his face. "Hey," Isaac said simply, totally not surprised that he was still inside the house. The look on Isaac's face would have made Scott groaned—his chemo-signal was all over the place and he knew that Isaac found out about the newly chipped off marble and the connected it to the metallic scent of fresh blood.

Scott gave his beta a thin-lipped smile before awkwardly half-waving his hand in the air. "Oh. Hey," Scott's arm eventually fell to his side as Isaac continued to give him a quizzical look that almost made him feel uncomfortable.

Holding his mug close to his chest, Isaac looked over his shoulder before he turned again to face Scott, pointing his finger at the cabinets. "Did you notice that the coffee powder is gone?" Isaac had this look of innocence that Scott totally knew was fake. He could even smell Isaac trying to pretend that he didn't know anything. "See, I just came in and Melissa saw me, asked me to make some coffee but when I came to find the sachets," Isaac held up his mug, showing Scott the bottom.

It was empty.

"Turns out we ran out, which was really weird because only Melissa and I drink coffee," Scott opened his mouth, wanting to interrupt and tell Isaac and tell him that they're going to be late when he realized that they were far too early for school. Isaac pressed finger on his cheek and cupped his chin with his hand, pretending to be deep in thought, wondering on what could have possibly happened to the coffee. "I mean, we only drink it in the _morning_ and Melissa only bought the coffee yesterday," Isaac's expression changed into something more serious.

Scott immediately noticed the change in Isaac's stance and his chemo-signal reeked of worry and concern. He honestly wanted to tell him that he was going to be fine and that he _is_ fine but he's too tired of lying and he doubts that he can mask his scent and control his heartbeat when he's too damn tired. He's exhausted, haven't got a full night's sleep in 3 weeks.

Matter of fact, Scott didn't even sleep last night. He just drank coffee in his bathroom and stared at the ceiling, his eyes randomly making these images of shadows growing until he'd see that it's gone and that there was nothing even there.

Taking a step, Scott could smell so many emotions from Isaac. Anger, concern, disappointment and fear stood among the rest. "Listen, I know that it's been a tough week for you, for all of you guys," Isaac started out firmly but not harsh or unkind. "But you need to pull yourself together. I mean, what are you even doing? You're not even going to therapy with Deaton!" the thought bore a hole in Scott's mind. Isaac was right; Scott has been skipping on the therapy sessions Deaton's been arranging for him, Stiles, and Allison.

"I was tired, Isaac. I couldn't go." Scott admitted weakly, not even trying to convince himself.

"Listen," Isaac said, his shoulders hunched in defeat. "How about you give it a go with Deaton's sessions? And if it doesn't work then," Isaac had an unreadable expression on his face before he turned his back and got something from the fridge. It smelled of some Japanese brand of ice-coffee. "Then I'll let you go and perfect the art of doing nothing," uncapping the bottle, Isaac took a quick drink before wiping his lips clear of any residue.

Walking towards the living room, Isaac spotted a motorcycle helmet that Scott kept in case someone needed to ride with him during all their escapades running around town, trying to save lives. "Um, are you going to school?" Scott looked raised a questioning glance at him. Isaac never did like school, and his constant using of his phone— _like right now, Isaac was using his phone_ —didn't really vouch for him.

Scott shot Isaac a wary look, especially when he heard tapping and clicking on the screen. "Yeah."

Isaac nodded, thinking deeply as if what he said held so much underlying meaning. "Okay, me too," he said coolly, his brow raised as he continued nodding.

Walking towards the front door, looking at Isaac as he gazed at the spare helmet absentmindedly. "Good." Isaac was never known for his perfect attendance before and after becoming a werewolf. "Do you need a ride?" normally, Isaac rode with Derek to school but Scott's heard that something happened between them and that there was a rift between the two.

Isaac nodded, responded by taking the spare helmet into his hands. Hopping onto the motorcycle, Scott noticed that Isaac still wasn't getting on his bike. "Uh, Isaac? I want to get there early," Scott then sniffed the air, immediately cursing when Isaac's head jerked up. Lately, his powers have been all messed up and when he wants to do something, it'll draw more attention than usual.

"Can I ask you a question?" Isaac asked him, all of a sudden, concern still hanging in the air.

Scott nodded. "Okay." Inserting the key, he was ready to start the engine when Isaac spoke up again.

"Are you angry at me?"

"No," Scott answered quickly. Maybe too quickly.

Isaac pressed. "Are you sure?" Scott saw Isaac's eyes and how they shone, expecting an answer.

' _Yes_.' Scott wanted to say but then his vision turned dark and pain coursed through his head. "No," he ended up saying, sighing when Isaac didn't notice his little loss of composure.

Isaac looked conflicted. "What's that means?" Scott shrugged, not really knowing what he meant when he said it.

"I guess I'm not really sure how I'm feeling," Scott's eyes wandered towards Isaac standing in the middle of the door frame, his ears picking up a familiar rustle in an upstairs room which was like a combination of running water from a leaky faucet and smoothing out bed covers. Scott realized that his mother's already up.

Isaac nodded. "Okay. Do you hate me?" Scott balked at the question, not expecting it. Scott figured out that he probably looked like a fish with his mouth hanging out open.

Shaking his head, Scott had a small smile on his face to try and convince Isaac that he didn't have any bad feelings towards him. "No, of course not," but Isaac was unfazed, it was like he was set on finding some sort of suppressed feeling inside of Scott that wanted something bad to happen to his beta

Isaac nodded, his expression not changing. "Do you want to hit me?" Scott's eyes widened as immediately shook his head, even waving his hands in like an ' _x_ '.

"No." Scott was sure this time. He didn't want to hit his friend.

 _But you do._

A voice sounded. Scott looked around, trying to see if anyone passed by but he knew no one did. It was an eerie feeling, hearing the voice, and felt something wrong, like something cold passed through his body.

"I think you should hit me." Scott looked at Isaac and realized that this was about Allison. Scott figured that Isaac was still trying to even things out even though there was nothing really bad between them. His beta probably thought that he was a bit bitter about the whole attraction between them but it was nothing really to Scott.

Then it suddenly clicked in Scott's mind why Isaac started the whole thing with coffee and Deaton's therapy sessions. Aside from being worried for him, Scott figured out that Isaac thought he wasn't attending because he was there with Allison.

"I don't want to hit you." Scott reassured his friend before giving him a half-smile through his tired face and his heavy eyelids.

It took all of Scott's will-power, honestly, to stop himself from just collapsing on the ground and he wondered why Isaac wasn't noticing anything.

Isaac looked skeptical at his answer, wondering if it was sincere or not. "Are you sure?" Scott nodded, forcing out a chuckle that sounded so wrong on so many levels because it ended up as a coughing fit. Isaac was about to rush to his aid when he held up a hand and told him he was fine.

"Why would I want to hit you? It's not like you did anything, did you?" Isaac's eyes widened, his hands protectively moving towards his phone.

Isaac's mouth hung open like a fish, much like how Scott was earlier. "No. I mean, um," he stammered, the fingers on his free hand fidgeted with one another. Isaac cleared his throat as if he had swallowed sand. "What do you mean?"

"I mean, _like_ , you're not doing anything, right?" Scott had a wave of pain rush through him. It might have looked like, to Isaac that he was thinking of something very bad that happened between him and Allison.

Isaac shook his head, not bothering to mask his heartbeat and his chemo-signal reeked of lies. "No! Absolutely not. No," Scott narrowed his eyes at his beta, walking up towards him.

"You are doing something right now, aren't you?" as if on cue, Isaac's phone rang and he heard the tone. It was a special tone that was used for Allison whenever she'd call him. Lydia thought that it'd be better for everyone to have designated ringtones for everyone to save time. "Allison, huh?" for a moment, Scott was thinking that maybe Isaac and Allison were getting back on track but he would have smelled it from Isaac. Scott then realized what he was doing. "You were texting earlier. _Texting Allison_ —are you spying on me for her?" Isaac opened his mouth, his face filled with shock, ready to defend himself when he caught himself and just stopped.

Eventually, Isaac breathed out. "Yeah. I was totally spying on you for Allison," biting his bottom lip, Scott nodded before slamming Isaac back inside his house. The sound of Isaac's body crashing against the floor was quite loud and Scott found himself smiling, not from the sheer humor that Isaac found in the slamming, but a darker one that went away as fast as it arrived. Either way, Scott brushed it off. It was against the bro-code, anyway, for Isaac to do spying on him on orders from his ex-girlfriend.

Isaac groaned, but a small and genuine smile appeared on his face when Scott came over, offering a hand to help him up.

That was when Melissa came over to inspect what had happened and groaned when she realized what had happened. "You two supernatural teenage boys," she pointed to the both of them as Scott helped Isaac up. Scott gave a sheepish smile to his mother as Isaac brushed off the non-existent dust on his pants to try and avoid Melissa's scolding. "Don't test my entirely _un_ -supernatural level of patience!" she warned before disappearing back into the kitchen.

Looking at Isaac, Scott pointed at his motorcycle. "Hey, you still want to go?" Scott blinked a few times to make sure that he was awake and he wouldn't fall asleep. Isaac nodded, grabbing the helmet that came tumbling down the floor, leaving a few scratches against the wood paneling of the furniture.

Scott wore his helmet and grabbing the bottle of coffee Isaac drank from. Holding it up, Scott shrugged at the weight before uncapping the bottle and drinking the rest of the coffee. "Yeah," Isaac and Scott went outside, got on the motorcycle before he slowly exited the driveway.

As Scott was about to start the engine, he heard his Mom groan in frustration and wonder. "I could have swore that I just bought coffee!" Scott could feel Isaac's knowing glance from behind him.

Chuckling under his breath, Scott started the engine, the sound filling the lot around them. "Shut up, man," Scott said before driving off to Beacon Hills High School.


	3. CHAPTER II - STILES

**SUCCUMB**

 **"ANCHORS"**

 **CHAPTER II - STILES**

* * *

Stiles sighed as he almost turned his bedroom upside down trying to find his textbooks for school. "History, _history_ ," he muttered under his breath like a chant or a mantra as he looked under his pillow. "Where are you?" Stiles asked no one in particular, checking his watch and frowning at the time he read. He would be late and Scott would be angry at him for making him wait so long.

Grabbing his backpack, Stiles checked his sock drawer and stared at his book in wonder as he fished it out of the wooden cabinet.

Stiles gave the book a quizzical look as he wondered how in the world his book ended up inside the cabinet. "Wha—" Stiles stared at the cover, blinking as the letters rearranged themselves into something he couldn't really understand. The cover was still recognizable; the Union Flag was by the side and the horribly photoshopped mars-red mushroom explosion, topped off with an out-of-place black-out plane and tank.

Placing the book down, Stiles counted his fingers, his eyes darting towards the book after he had finished. It was still the same _DALESI XIS ANLA_ the main title read in huge white font, Stiles had to squint to make sure that he read it right, that his mind wasn't making everything up. _DOL WTAR I AWND RHIE WUTTRNRRIENLA SAOTRGLE FGO TPONE_ was the sub title in a smaller, black font that would have been readable had it been in the right arrangement.

Suddenly, the door creaked open. Immediately, Stiles' head turned to the source of the sound and saw his father dressed up already in his uniform and his badge in place. "Hey. You alright? Ready for school?" Stiles gave his Dad a a pointed look before both of his hands came flying at the direction of his textbooks and other stuff. Stiles' books were lying around in his room, some notebooks and binders were scattered on the carpeted floor.

Stiles looked at the book and realized that it turned back to normal. Stiles could finally read the book's title which was, _ALLIES AND AXIS: WORLD WAR II AND THE INTERNATIONAL STRUGGLE FOR POWER_ , a book about some nations trying to balance back the world to normalcy after the war.

"I will never be ready for school. _Ever_!" Stiles could see the smile his father was trying to fight. He never really did like school, in fact, he hated the social hierarchy that ruled inside the four walls and their outdated ways on evaluating students. Stiles was ready to tell his father more about hating school with a burning passion when he saw the somewhat relieved expression on his father's face morph into something that had concern.

It was obvious that his Dad was still thinking about what had happened last night, how he suddenly woke up screaming.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm good." Stiles dismissed his father's thoughts, hoping that he wouldn't worry him about what had happened last night. It still gave him the chills, actually, remembered how he wanted to die. "Dad, seriously, I'm fine. It was just a nightmare." Giving his Dad a serious look, even throwing in a small, half-smile trying to forget about the dream. The very thought of that nightmare gives Stiles this feeling that was something that reminded him of what he felt before a panic attack. Deciding to throw his father off in another direction, Stiles pointed to the banker box his Dad was carrying. "What's that?"

His Dad stared at the box for a second before he met his son's eyes again. "That just, uh, files from office," his father said dismissively as if it wasn't a big thing and Stiles would have believed him if it weren't for the sticker on the side.

Giving his father a pointed and somewhat accusing look, Stiles' finger flew towards the direction of the box's sticker. "Dad, it literally says there ' _Sheriff's station, do not remove_ ', if that's not suspicious then I don't know what is," Stiles felt pretty good about his argument, satisfied to say the least.

But his Dad smirked, shrugging his shoulders. "Well, yeah, unless you're the Sheriff." His father chuckled.

Stiles looked dumbfounded. "Oh," he said simply, but he knew that his father was hiding something from him and he'd get to the bottom of it. Right now, Stiles just felt really tired.

Heading downstairs, his father called after him. "Now, get your butt to school, alright?" coming out of his trance, Stiles grabbed the books and the binder notebooks lying on the ground before he sped off, grabbing some money he saw on his bedside. Stopping by to close the zipper of his pants, Stiles remembered breakfast and decided to steal himself a piece of toast and enjoy a glass of orange juice.

"OJ, OJ, _OJ_. . ." he chanted, eventually trailing off when he opened the refrigerator and scanning its contents. Stiles eventually fist-punched the air when he saw the jug containing the familiar orange liquid. Grabbing himself a tall glass, Stiles poured the juice when his eyes darted towards the nutrition facts and realized it was back. He was dyslexic again and he couldn't a thing, that the number and the letter were all jumbled up in a mix that made absolutely no sense to him.

"What the—" Stiles stared at the sticker in shock and in horror. "What is this?" pinching himself, his arm stung before he placed the jug down, raising his fingers so they'd meet his eyes. Slowly, Stiles counted to ten and when he was finished, he knew that he wasn't dreaming but when he looked at the jug of OJ, he still saw the jumbled letters and shook his head. _That was just a figment of your lousy imagination_ , Stiles told himself as he ditched the glass inside the refrigerator and swallowed the toast in one bite.

Glancing at a wall clock near him, Stiles cursed. He was already late and he's sure that Scott was pissed—or just how pissed that big puppy could get. So Stiles just shook his head, taking his car keys that reflected the sunlight and ran towards his Jeep, happy that it was finally back from the shop his Dad brought it to. Stiles smiled, looking at the new windshield. He was glad when his Dad told him that he'd take care of that, some sort of _thanks_ for saving him.

Fighting off the smile that crept up on his face when he realized that not a _single_ dime went missing from his wallet, Stiles started the engine of his Jeep and drove away towards Beacon Hills High School, a constant venue for supernatural altercations ranging from minor disagreements to full-blown threats like ' _I'm-going-to-rip-your-throat-out-with-my-teeth_ ', and Stiles' personal favourite, the ' _I'm-gonna-break-off-an-extra-large-branch-of-mountain-ash-wrap-it-in-wolfsbane-roll-it-in-mistletoe-and-shove-it-up-your-ass_ ' which happens to annoy— _he likes to believe that he scares those puppies, too_ —his furry companions.

Finally, after a few close-calls with some road blocks and almost falling asleep, Stiles managed to reach the parking lot of Beacon Hills High School relatively unscathed. Stepping out of his Jeep, he realized that it was nothing short of being a fucking miracle. Grabbing his backpack from the passenger seat, Stiles was ready to head over his best friend's locker when he spotted Scott running from something like a lunatic.

And in every other normal day, Stiles would have laughed before coming to his side, asking what was wrong or what he was running away from. But it wasn't like any other normal day—Stiles knew that whatever Scott was running from, it was because of the side-effects he was experiencing. Stiles' mind drifted off to the back of the school where the lacrosse field was. The moment they had powered the Nemeton, when they were held practically dead underwater started all of this.

Stiles knew what he had to do. He wanted to go to his friend and help him, help Scott but he was frozen in his place as people passed through him as if he wasn't even there. Stiles was thankful for that, though, having no one go interrogating him over and over again what had happened three weeks ago.

Three weeks ago.

Memories of what happened flashed through his mind and what it brought to his life. The darkness that seemed to envelope around him more often. _Not brought, only made more noticeable_ , a random voice popped up in Stiles' head which definitely creeped him out and helped him finally choose.

Stiles looked away from Scott and headed towards the door. He breathed deep and fast, gasping for some air. Stiles didn't like it but there's a reason why he and Scott were estranged for the past three weeks and it's because he's scared of him. In his nightmares, he fought and failed to protect himself and he just let himself die at his best friend's hands, like he wanted to die. And Scott seemed to enjoy the kill, he loved the feeling of him dying.

If that doesn't creep a person out, then Stiles had to wonder what does.

A part of Stiles wanted to avoid Scott, and right now, that seemed like the option that would bring him a step closer towards a golden ticket. But it was fruitless because Scott burst through one door at the opposite end of the hallway. Allison suddenly appeared behind Stiles, her pupils dilated as if she saw something that wasn't supposed to be there in the first place. She was pale as a sheet but she's still best looking of the people who died and came back.

Get ready Olivia Moore because here comes Allison Argent!

Allison stumbled forward, losing her balance when Stiles caught her, mid-fall. "Whoa, whoa," Stiles steadied Allison, helping her up to her feet. "Hey. Hey, are you alright?" Stiles almost groaned when he realized how stupid the question was. None of them were okay. "You don't look all right, Allison," Stiles noticed Scott at the opposite end of the hallway because he towered over some of the freshmen tumbling over the tiles with schedules in hand trying to get to their classes before the bell rang.

Looking around, she nodded. "I'm okay," Allison breathed deeply before steadying herself and giving him a somewhat serious look that would have cleared his thoughts of any doubt had he been a transfer student. Yeah, Stiles wasn't buying any of the bullshit she was giving him.

Walking Allison to her locker, Stiles noticed that Scott had a lost expression to his face, almost like he was in a daze or something. "No, you're not. It's happening to you, too. You're seeing things, aren't you?" Allison gave him an incredulous look, shocked by all accounts. The expression only told Stiles that Allison hasn't been near any member of the pack except Isaac— _Scott forced a meeting with him and gave him everything that's happened when they weren't communicating with each other_ —and that she didn't expect anyone to know.

A part of Stiles wanted to call out for Scott.

If Allison worked as his anchor back when he was going through Werewolf 101, maybe Scott could be her anchor to get through whatever it was they're going through. _Maybe they'd even get back together_ , a small and supportive part of him piped up, just wanting his best friend to be happy even thought he couldn't stand the sight of him—Scott was missing.

Stiles immediately leaped off the locker, not realizing that he was leaning against one, much to the anger of Allison's neighbor who couldn't seem to get her books until Stiles saw the familiar and unmistakable blood red glowing eyes in the sea of people. Stiles' heart hammered against his chest; they can't have people going back to the Middle Ages where they'd massacre each other until a new plague would arrive.

"Stiles?" Allison's voice rang out but he waved her off, desperate to find that glow in the sea of people again when a voice piped up behind her.

"Because it's happening to all three of you," Lydia Martin stood behind him, his best friend Scott in tow. It was almost a funny sight to Stiles, seeing Lydia drag around Scott before he finally woke up from his trance, blinking in confusion as he pointed all the way to the other end of the hallway and muttering how the hell he got to another. Stiles then realized that long ago, he would have given anything— _besides his Jeep_ —to have Lydia Martin drag him around.

A satisfied smirk rested on Lydia's lips.

She clasped her hands together, her head lolled to a side as if it was all innocent banter. "Well, well, look who's no longer the crazy one," Allison tensed up defensively as she put on a brave face, the one people in the horror movies would use before shit hits the fan.

Yeah, that was Allison's face right now. "We're not crazy," Stiles may not have been a werewolf, he could hear the BS in that simple statement. You'd have to be real close like Stiles or else you wouldn't hear it but he swore in the moment that her voice quavered, as if she thought of something before saying that.

Lydia gave passing glances at the three of them. "Hallucinating? Sleep paralysis?" Lydia listed off, her eyes kept on him but Stiles knew she was thinking of Scott and his best friend's really worrisome condition. "Yeah, you guys are _fine_ ," sarcasm dripped from her tone. For a moment, Stiles was almost envious—sarcasm was _his_ specialty, his only move for defense because he's, _regrettably_ , 147 pounds of pale skin and fragile bones.

Scott, beside Lydia, opened up his mouth to protest but she cut him off before he could have said anything. "You," she pointed at his eye bags that made Stiles suddenly feel conscious because he probably has way bigger ones. "Do not look fine," to anyone else, it might have been like Lydia Martin was telling her friend— _acquaintance? Stiles didn't exactly know how the school viewed them for Lydia Martin as companions_ —that he looked awful. In fact, if Stiles was sleepy enough to collapse, he would have thought that Lydia was still enjoying all of it and that she was still teasing.

And she was, but Stiles could pick up something beneath that. He wasn't a werewolf or any supernatural being of sorts, but he knew Lydia Martin like the back of his hand and he knew that she was worried. And she's right to be worried; she has a ship filled with reasons and he just felt guilty because he couldn't comfort his friend.

Scott sighed tiredly and looked at Lydia, groaning at the worried looks everyone's been throwing at him. Stiles knew that Scott just wanted to escape it all and rest if he could. "We _did_ die and come back to life. That's got to have some side effects, right?" benefit of the doubt, Stiles immediately knew what kind of card Scott was playing so that he could get off the whole topic and have everyone to just let it go.

And finally, Stiles mustered all the courage he had in him to tell Scott off, that he wasn't about to let it go because none of them were fine but then again, timing was a _bitch_. The bell rang and soon, people inside the hallways started to disappear into their respective classrooms.

Sighing, Stiles walked over to Scott's side, who was shocked and initially recoiled at his touch. "Hey, buddy, we've got History together," Stiles slung his hand over Scott's shoulder and began walking towards a classroom, tension between them was tragically obvious. "We keep an eye on each other. Okay? And Lydia, stop enjoying this so much," Stiles said, turning his head to his side, expecting Lydia and Allison to be there but they weren't. Removing his arm from Scott's shoulder, Stiles spun around to see Allison getting one of her compound bows and Lydia reading up on a book. "Where are you going?" Stiles asked out loud, enough to get their attention.

"What?" Lydia asked innocently before flashing Allison's color-coded schedule, and while Stiles can't read it because it's too small from afar, he knew that big free space on top. "Allison's got free period and I," there was a smile on Lydia's face that made Stiles' heart set flutter. She always had this effect on him. "Well, my grades can manage," Stiles snorted before nodding. _Manage my ass_ , Stiles thought to himself when he realized that not even a three-week absence could bring down Lydia's immaculate GPA.

Seeing Allison nod her head ever so slightly, Stiles saw that as his cue to turn around only to realize that Scott went another trance and he was finally coming back from it. Immediately, Stiles felt sorry for his best friend and slung his arm over his shoulders. "Hey, you heard that we have a new History Teacher!" it was over enthusiastic that even Stiles cringed at how fake it was, but looking over to his side, he realized that he said it in a tone higher than usual and that Scott was right beside him.

His hearing, as it turns out, is way more sensitive when he goes with nights without sleep.

"Sorry," Stiles muttered sheepishly, earning a small nod from his best friend. A half-smile was on Stiles' face now— _that was baby steps_ , he thought to himself when he saw some people rushing in to get inside the classroom. _May have been at a snail's nerve-wracking pace but it's progress nonetheless_ , Scott gave him a weird look, probably picking up on a weird and happy chemo-signal that was entirely out of place.

Finally reaching the classroom, Stiles walked over to some two seats near he window, placing his bag on the chair beside him to prevent anyone from taking it when she saw that Scott was stood frozen in front of some student who was sound asleep on his desk. At first, Stiles was thinking that maybe it was another trance. Getting up, he walked over to see that Scott wasn't under some sort hauntingly horrible vision of death— _his, in particular_ —but he was looking at this new Asian girl, probably around their age.

A soft groan escaped Stiles' lips before he dragged his now infatuated werewolf best friend to the seat beside his. "Come on now, lover boy, we've got History to deal with," Scott twisted around to get another glance at the new girl when suddenly, one of Stiles' notebooks dropped to the ground.

At first, Stiles could only blink. "Umm, hey, I've got it," Scott said hesitantly as if he wasn't sure on what he was supposed to do. Bending down to reach the binder notebook, it was like a train crash in slow motion because in a blink of an eye, Scott had his claws around his neck, choking the living daylight out of him.

Trying his best to breathe in, Stiles panicked when he realized that he couldn't. "Scott, buddy, let go," his voice wavered in fear. Stiles gulped, not really knowing if the man in front of him really is the same kid whose sandcastle was destroyed because he had to piss in it.

Thrashing around his arms violently at the wall at his back, Stiles made a ruckus to save his damned life. Scott had him pinned against the wall, towering above him as he deprived him of the oxygen he needed to live. "Help!" Stiles managed to choke out but no one came to his aid, probably because they were afraid of a wolf-boy with glowing red eyes.

"Stiles!"

And then suddenly, Stiles back in his seat. Looking around, he realized that his back wasn't pressed against the wall and that there were people around him, getting settled for class as the teacher was writing on the board. "Wha—what happened?" Scott inched forward, his hand hanging in the air. He probably wanted to comfort him and Stiles wondered what was taking him so long until he realized he was taking Scott so long.

Scott slowly withdrew his hand when Stiles' breathing finally calmed down. He was avoiding his best friend. Stiles was afraid of his brother's hand which held the very fingers used to help defeat the levels of Contra.

Ignoring the hurt look on Scott's face, Stiles blinked rapidly. "What happened?" although Stiles could feel like someone was watching them, Scott didn't urn around so he didn't ask. He would have known anyway considering his best friend is a werewolf with supernatural hearing abilities— _and supernatural killing abilities_ —and Scott would have easily found out if there was someone eavesdropping on their conversation.

Scott leaned back into his seat, obviously trying to make it seem like he wasn't hurt or anything by his avoiding him. "Your notebook fell," Scott pointed to the light blue binder notebook that was now sitting on his armchair. "I put it back in front of you when you started hyperventilating," leaning closer, careful not to overstep the now obviously drawn lines between them. "What did you see?"

Stiles gulped. He hated how there was distance between him and his best friend but he couldn't help but need it. "It was nothing," he didn't mask the abnormal beating his heart gave and Stiles raised his brow when Scott just stared at him as if he didn't know on whether he was lying or not. "I was, _uh_ , hallucinating, yeah, about the Nemeton," Stiles lied about it again, trying to see if there was a change in Scott's expression.

There wasn't.

Then suddenly, the door creaked open and a student went inside, carelessly pushing the door closed but she didn't put much effort into it. The door hung open half-way as she— _Hope Mikaelson, the really rich kid whose Dad owns the chalet built on top of Thorn Hill_ —crossed the room and went to her seat, not bothering to close the door she left open despite knowing that the classroom was an air-conditioned one.

 _'When is a door not a door?'_

Looking around, alarmed, Stiles tried to figure out what just happened. "Stiles, what happened?" Scott asked, looking around as well to try and see what was wrong. Eventually, Stiles stopped looking around and began trying to focus on what the new History teacher was writing on the board only to find out that he can't. The damned letters were jumbled up again and he paled when he couldn't read like what happened earlier.

 _'When is a door not a door?'_

When the voice asked again, Stiles' head whipped to a side, his teeth gritting, suddenly realizing how heavy his eyelids felt like. "What?" Scott gave him a concerned look but Stiles ignored it, looking around like a paranoid fool. "It's just in your head, Stiles, just in your head," he muttered it like a mantra, continuously earning him worried glances from Scott.

But it won't stop, the voice won't stop asking. ' _When is a door not a door? When is a door not a door? When is a door not a door? When is a door not a door? When is a door not a door?_ ' having enough, Stiles used his palms to block out the noise, pressing his hands against his ears. But then, suddenly, it vanished. The eerie voice that kept badgering him to answer when a door isn't a fucking door, the same voice that kept boring a hole at his head, stopped and vanished all of a sudden.

It was only then that Stiles heard a soft click. The teacher closed the door, saying something about saving energy by keeping air-conditioned rooms closed. He let out a sigh and groaned as he leaned back into his seat, wondering when the madness is going to end.

Sitting up straight, Stiles saw that the new teacher was finished with what he was writing on the board. "Good morning, everyone. My name is Mr. Yukimura," Stiles looked at the board and sighed in relief when he noticed that the letters weren't all jumbled up and that he could actually read. "I'll be taking over for your previous History teacher," Mr. Yukimura smiled brightly at the students but at the moment, he didn't really care about that.

He just leaned back into the chair and closed his eyes, feeling comfort when the burning sensation from keeping his eyes open was gone.

"My family and I moved here three weeks ago. By now, I'm sure, you all know my daugher, Kira," Mr. Yukimura waved his hand at the student at the back, everyone— _including Stiles and, unsurprisingly, Scott_ —only to see the new girl, Kira, waving her hand shyly. "Or you might not, since she's never mentioned anyone from school. Or brought a friend home for that matter." The tight smile Kira had was replaced by a horrified look before she bent her head down and buried it in her arms, groaning, probably, in embarrassment.

Eventually, everyone looked forward to face Mr. Yukimura while Stiles kept staring at the board, wondering to himself if his newly-discovered dyslexia has some sort of a schedule to torment him. Is it hourly, he thought to himself, looking down to read the cover of book like it was a piece of cake.

"Either way, there she is. Now, let's begin with American History at the turn of the 20th century." Mr. Yukimura chuckled before grabbing the textbook he has on his desk and opening it up on a page, asking everyone to answer the evaluation test.

The whole class was a blur to Stiles, partly because he was exhausted. He literally went through History half-awake and half-asleep, making incoherent noises when asked who was Britain's Prime Minister who first lead the nation through the first 8 months of World War II. Either way, Stiles knew the answer— _Neville Chamberlain, the PM before Winston Churchill_ —but he just shrugged dismissively, feeling so dizzy that he leaned back into his chair and closed his eyes.

Stiles sighed in relief, feeling comfort when the burning and stinging sensation that came with staying awake was gone. He didn't sleep—he didn't want to risk another episode where he'd freak everyone out except Scott for screaming himself awake from a nightmare—but when Stiles opened his eyes, still groggy from his compromised nap time, people were already standing up and getting their bags, probably going for another class or for the lunch room.

"And remember! Read about the failed blitzkrieg attack on the RAF and why that particular event proved fundamental for the Allies' victory," Mr. Yukimura yelled out, fixing his stuff, probably preparing for his next class.

Stiles groaned, feeling that his nap was too short, that it came as quick as it left him. Standing up, he felt a bit woozy and when Scott tried to help him, he held a hand up. "I'm fine, man," Scott eventually backed away, just waiting for him to get finished at his own seat, his backpack already slung over his shoulders.

"Yeah, yeah, sure," Scott gave him a tight smile and stood waiting for him. Stiles felt bad, his best friend was just trying to help him and God knows they all need help. But Scott tried to kill him, albeit it was dream-Scott, but Scott nonetheless. Who knew if giving power back to the Nemeton suddenly dug up this suppressed evilness in his best friend?

Sighing, Stiles grabbed his bag and opened it wide, putting all of his books and notebooks unceremoniously, not bothering to fix it up or arrange it in the very least.

"Maybe," Scott's voice rang behind him, surprising Stiles a little. "Maybe we need a little more time to get back to normal," it wasn't a crappy solution, just one that won't really happen. Stiles knows that his best friend is just trying to help him because he's Stiles, no super-healing and not super with anything. Just human Stiles.

Stiles snorted at the suggestion. "Yeah, try not to forget that we hit the reset button on a supernatural beacon for supernatural creatures. There's a pretty good chance things are never going back to normal," Stiles didn't mean to snap but it came out that way and a gut feeling told him that there was so little he could do to tell Scott anything otherwise. "Look, we've all had a crap day, Scott, so can we just _please_ drop it?" the wordless nod from his best friend came in heavy to him.

Stiles didn't want to do that to Scott.

"Okay, yeah," Scott just nodded. "I'll just wait here," a part of Stiles felt guilty when Scott awkwardly pretended to eavesdrop on Kira and Mr. Yukimura's conversation. He knows that he shouldn't be too harsh on him, that the whole effects and nightmares from the Nemeton wasn't his fault. . .but it was just so easy to do that, to blame someone.

Blaming, surprisingly, makes bearing the after effects a whole lot easier for Stiles, actually.

Finishing up, Stiles grabbed his bag and noticed his notebook again, how he couldn't read the it. Opening, he couldn't even read the already load of gibberish. Stiles sighed as he placed it inside his bag, zipping it closed. His notes were ineligible and hard to read to begin with and now he's dyslexic, Stiles thought to himself after he slung the backpack over his shoulder.

Turning to face Scott, Stiles had an apology brewing in his mind when he saw his best friend's eyes.

Stiles came close, turning Scott around so that Mr. Yukimura and Kira wouldn't notice. "Oh, dude, your eyes." Stiles whispered in a low voice, trying not to catch their new History teacher's attention.

Scott looked alarmed. "What about them?" he asked, worried all of a sudden.

Stiles paced around nervously in his place. "Your eyes, they're starting to glow," every time Kira would turn around and face their direction, Stiles swore, he's having a mini heart attack.

Scott's eyes widened. "You mean like right now?" Scott pointed to his eyes and Stiles furiously nodded.

Still hiding him from Kira and Mr. Yukimura, Stiles kept trying to glance at the two in front of them, wondering if they noticed what was happening to Scott. "Yes, right now. Scott, stop it. Stop it." Scott started hyperventilating and soon, Stiles saw the sharp, white fangs that bit him earlier in a little trance or vision.

Scott panicked. "I can't. I can't control it!" he whispered, hissing in fear.

Soon, Scott tried to push Stiles away and go into a corner but his hand grabbed the strap of his backpack. "Hey, buddy, look down and keep your head bent, I've got an idea, okay? Just keep your head down. Look down, come on. Keep your head down." Scott and Stiles tried their best to go out the classroom without attracting Kira or Mr. Yukimura's attention and after what seemed like a lifetime of keeping Scott on his feet, they got out and went inside a vacant classroom.

Once they got inside, Scott threw himself away from him. "Get back away from me." Stiles blocked the windows and turned his head back to face his best friend who drew blood as he dug his nails into the palm of his hands. Stiles felt weird. That fact shouldn't be bad, seeing as he's naturally queasy around blood, but the sight of it wasn't the thing bothering him, it was different.

Stiles tried to find his voice. Aside from the weird feeling he has, he felt extremely sorry for his best friend. He inched forward, trying to comfort him at least when Scott looked up, his eyes glowing blood red and his face pinched in pain. "Scott, it's okay." He wanted to believe in the lie but he couldn't, not when the thought came knocking on his mind.

 _What are you feeling, Stiles? Tell me, what is it? What is that feeling?_

The voice came asking when Scott drew more blood from his palm. "I don't know what's going to happen. Get back!" reluctantly, Stiles stepped back, his hand itching to help his best friend.

It was a familiar feeling. In fact, Stiles felt it almost everyday for the 5 days in a week. He tried to remember what triggered it when suddenly, blood trickled to the floor and Stiles remembered the color red, the common misconception of how Lydia was a redhead. Strawberry blonde, his own voice popped up in his mind.

Suddenly, it all made sense. If anything, Stiles loves the idea of seeing Lydia. Ever since 3rd grade, the one motivation he has, the drive that made him go to school and pass every grade was so that he could see Lydia, have the slightest possibility of being her classmate the next year.

So, if I feel like this whenever I see Lydia, Stiles thought to himself, passing the word love and anticipate in his head, his eyes suddenly widened. He likes seeing Scott in pain?

Stiles shook his head as Scott groaned in pain, falling to the ground as he panted. Stiles could see it now, that it was all clear that Scott was obviously more exhausted than he was.

When Stiles was sure that his best friend's episode was over, he went to Scott's side and helped him up. "Pain makes you human," Stiles winced, wondering why it was has to end with that, why they'd have to resort to that.

Stiles shook his head, feeling better now that the weird thoughts of wanting to harm his friend was gone and that the paranoia of being close to his best friend would kill him now vanished into thin air, that the chaos that ruled in his mind and prevented him from helping Scott was gone. "Scott, this isn't just in our heads. This is real. And it's starting to get bad for me, too. The nightmares, the ones I literally have to scream myself awake, I'm not even sure if I'm actually ever waking up," he confessed, feeling the heavy weight in his chest grow lighter as the seconds pass by.

Scott's face was etched with confusion. "What do you mean?"

Stiles stared at the classroom, looking around it before facing Scott who trying his best to clean up the blood that spilled on the ground and on the armchairs. "Do you know how you can tell if you're not dreaming?" Stiles pointed at the board and Scott's face followed. "You can't read in dreams. More and more, the past few days, I've been having trouble reading. It's like I can't even see the words," staring at the board, Scott paled. "I can't put the letters in order."

Walking closer to Stiles, Scott's brows furrowed in confusion.

"Like even now?"

Stiles gulped when he faced the board, unable to read anything. "I can't read a thing."


	4. CHAPTER III - ALLISON

**SUCCUMB**

 **"ANCHORS"**

 **CHAPTER III - ALLISON**

* * *

They were getting some take-outs from McDonald's because Lydia was shaken from her very own near death experience.

Allison still felt guilty about almost puncturing her best friend's skull with a military-grade titanium arrowhead. In fact, she felt glad that Isaac was trailing behind them even though she wondered why he was with them instead of sitting on a chair and being confined to the four walls of one of the many classrooms of Beacon Hills High School.

"You know, I could smell your curiosity from all over here," Allison turned her head from the passenger seat's window and faced Isaac, who was driving her Prius. "Scott asked me to do some guarding for him after I caught him running from his shadow like a lunatic," Lydia was busy with changing her sundae with a float to notice that they were talking. "You can imagine my surprise that when he asked me to do ' _some guarding_ ' he meant guarding you and not him," Isaac looked like he was reliving the moment.

Allison's throat burned with an itch she's been dying to remove, a question that's been burning a hole through her head ever since she saw him with that lost expression when they all met in the hallway. "How is he, anyway?" she said almost dismissively, trying not to sound off as someone who clung to the past but she knew that Isaac caught on to her, especially with that knowing look on his face but he sighed.

Looking at both sides, Isaac drove to the next window so that Lydia could get her meal. "If Scott were here, he would say that he's fine and that you and Stiles should focus on yourselves instead of him." Allison's brows burrowed ever so slightly and he knew what that meant. "But honestly, I'll tell you that he looks like shit," Isaac earned himself a dirty look from the worker inside the booth before smiling at Lydia and handing her the paper bag that held the greasy fries.

Popping one into her mouth, Lydia nodded. "I told him that, too. Of course, in a more _censored_ version." Allison kept giving strange looks at her best friend. "I mean, physically, he looks best but you could see it in him," Lydia shot Isaac a look through the rear view. "It's like you can feel it," Isaac had this deep look his face and Allison wondered how bad it was for Scott because Lydia, a harbinger of _death_ , is so fixed on seeing that something was wrong with him.

Allison remembered seeing him in the hallway, like he was in some sort of trance every and he looks so lost and so exhausted. "He drank coffee, too." Isaac grimaced as he took a turn, a small complex appearing in the distance. "He _hates_ coffee," Lydia hummed in agreement in the back when Allison looked over her shoulder to see her best friend touching up on her make-up with a compact mirror in hand. "And the fact that he could have been the town's best dirt bike racer and now, all of a sudden, he should be banned from sitting behind a wheel." Isaac pointed out on some tires marks, as if a motorcycle skidded and almost lost balance.

Allison nodded at the sight before passing through a roadblock that had some dents and tire marks when suddenly a loud ringing sounded.

It came from the back and soon, Lydia was holding her cellphone instead of the compact mirror she was just holding a few seconds ago. "Scott and Stiles got us a table by the court outside, told them we'd meet them there," Isaac nodded, pulling up on a spot before sighing. Allison could tell that he was disappointed that they made it back so soon—he'd have to take Mrs. Dodds' Elective Geometry.

Grabbing her bag, Allison made her way inside the hallway and followed Lydia to the court, where she saw Scott and Stiles occupying both of the benches of their table. Almost immediately, she knew that something was wrong so she fell behind to be with Isaac. "Something's wrong with Scott and Stiles," Isaac nodded, making no sound as he discreetly smelled around them. Allison didn't know if Scott heard or saw, but she needed to know.

Isaac fixed his gaze on Scott and Stiles. "Their chemo-signals are off, _more_ off than usual." In the distance, Lydia already reached them and Stiles moved to the edge of the bench to make room for two. "Stiles, he's scared and he's guilty. I don't know why but I think he's scared of Scott," Allison raised a brow, wondering how and why Stiles would be afraid of Scott. "Yeah, I could literally see the awkwardness in the air between them. Something's definitely up with Stiles," looking up, Allison saw that Isaac flashed his other eyes for a second.

Allison pondered for a moment. She was being haunted by her dead aunt who died at the hands of Peter Hale. Maybe it was because her aunt hated werewolves and the fact that her, quote unquote, fraternizing with the enemy brought out the idea of the haunting. Maybe it was her way of telling her, beyond the grave, that it was unacceptable for her to be with her friends.

The logical part of Allison wanted to break whatever it was binding her and her aunt, wanted to end the whole haunting thing. Another part of her, however, wanted to tell her Aunt Kate to suck it.

"Scott, he's different," Isaac's voice jarred her back to reality when he led her through the court, dodging all the jocks who were passing around a ball and away from the gymnasts who were practicing their yell. "I've been able to read through him since this morning, and it's not like he has the energy to hide it, but. . ." he trailed off, his eyes narrowing on Scott who occasionally lost his balance every once in a while that scared the hell out of Allison.

"Any weird chemo-signal from him?" Allison asked, walking closer towards Scott who hasn't noticed they were there.

Isaac squinted, as if he needed to concentrate and paused for a moment, taking a deep breath of the air around him. "Yeah, there's something but I couldn't tell." Isaac began walking again but he went to her other side so that he could sit next to Lydia, who was sitting next to Stiles as she walked over to Scott's side. As she neared him, Scott abruptly turned around.

When they were inside the hallway a few hours ago, Allison didn't see him much because he hid behind Lydia and focused on something else. She didn't get to see much of Scott but when he turned around, she saw for herself his _huge_ eye bags. A part of her wondered when was the last time he slept. Another thing about Scott that alarmed Allison was that how pale he was.

Scott's a natural Californian. He's lived his whole life in Beacon Hills and Allison's sure that he's got his fair share of the sun but seeing him so pale, thoughts ran through her mind and the best scenario that played out in her mind was that Scott locked himself the whole three weeks inside a room with no lights and never got out. Unsurprisingly, Allison knew that the best scenario never was the actual thing.

Isaac looked at her. "You know why I'm always around you guys, right?" Allison nodded, knowing that Scott sent Isaac to protect her and her Dad after the Darach and Nemeton crisis. "See, at first I thought it was because he wanted to keep you guys safe and while I'm sure he had that in mind, I figured out that Scott doesn't want me to know," Allison raised a brow when she herself thought about what Scott didn't want Isaac to know.

"Know what?" Allison asked in a small voice, partly because she didn't want Scott to hear and mostly because she didn't really know if she wanted to know the answer.

"He hasn't been sleeping," Isaac confessed, his brows furrowed as if he was trying to remember something. "I remember that the first time he sent me away in the middle of the night, his room smelled like his blood and the next morning when I checked up on him, his sheets were washed and his bathroom smelled of too much air freshener," Allison nodded, her smarts catching up to her despite feeling drowsy.

"He's trying to cover something up. Do you know what it is?" Isaac nodded.

"Yeah, his bathroom had small marks on the tiles and I noticed that his swivel chair's warm, like he was sitting there the whole night. And I caught his scent there, his blood's scent there mixed with coffee," Isaac looked like he was going to continue when they heard a voice.

Scott yelled, his arm raised in the air as if Isaac needed any help to find where he was sitting. "Hey, Isaac! Over here!" he scooted over and pointed over to the space beside him.

Allison wanted to ignore that one and just sit at the other vacant space beside Scott but Isaac gave her a look. Eventually, she sighed and gave in, sitting next to Lydia and faced Isaac across the table. Scott still avoided her glances every time she would look at him.

Scott, all of a sudden, starting coughing and coughing, wheezing like he had asthma. Stiles inched forward to help, but it was like he was strained and that he could't stand up. Eventually, he stopped, but the little color his face had was now gone and Scott looked sickly as ever. "Hey, Scott, are you okay?" Allison asked him, concern coming over her as she prepared to stand up when he flashed her an irritated look.

The look on Scott's face resembled a glare rather than an exhausted look. "Look, I'm fine, okay? Just stop," he said weakly as his forehead as glistening with sweat.

Taking a handful of fries from Lydia's paper bag, Stiles munched before pointing the pizza he got from the canteen and pointed it at her. "So, what's been up on your agenda the past few hours?" Allison looked at Isaac when her phone suddenly vibrated. Checking it, she saw that it was a text from Isaac and that Stiles was hiding something—that he reeked of a secret and too much Adderall for one person to take in such a short notice.

"Just practicing on moving targets," beside her, Lydia gave her a pointed look while Isaac raised a brow and munched on a green apple he brought over. "What happened to you guys?" and Allison saw it, the strained look on Scott's face and the silence that reigned over their group.

Stiles looked at the building near them, focusing on a particular window with open binds. Allison knew only one person who kept the binds open at that time of the day and it was Coach Bobby Finstock and his justification was that so his students would be too blinded by the sun to even think of getting a wink of sleep in his class. "A short day dream of Coach learning and teaching the class sign language. I was probably asleep." He said dismissively, as if it was nothing but he did grimace as if he relived the memory at the moment.

Scott scoffed, rolling his eyes that made Stiles raise his brows at his best friend, saying that he was spending too much time with the Hales. "Dude, you _weren't_ asleep." Scott insisted with this authority, his tone obviously showing how irritated he was to the point that he almost yelled at his best friend. Stiles was probably playing it down, underestimating it on purpose.

The tension between them grew heavier as the seconds passed. " _Okay_ ," Lydia sipped on her diet soda. "Moving on," she tried to get on to another subject. "Allison," Lydia turned to her, her hands clasped together as if she was hatching some plan. "Have you tried looking in your family's bestiary? Shed some light on your on whatever's happening to you three?" she pointed at Scott, who looked like he wanted to nothing more in this world than to sleep, and at Stiles who stared across the court.

Allison groaned, remembering how she never really did get much sleep the past few days and just spent most of her nights finding something from the bestiary. "I have. I've been reading the whole night but there's nothing there," the bestiary contained thousands of pages dedicated for wendigos and werewolves and yet there wasn't a single word about the side-effects of being a surrogate sacrifice or dying in order to re-power a supernatural beacon, much to Allison's chagrin and annoyance.

Isaac grunted, still munching on the green apple he's brought and began listening to the others when Allison saw something in the corner of her eyes. She saw blonde hair and a face that bore a striking resemblance to her dead Aunt Kate. Looking more intently at the person looking at them, Allison realized that it was her Aunt Kate when suddenly, she flung herself at them. Allison's hand reached for her bag where her small Swiss knife was kept hidden when her aunt vanished into thin air. Turning around to ask if everyone was fine, Allison realized that it was a just a vision.

Lydia was still listening to Stiles rant about his inability to determine what was a dream and what wasn't while Scott's losing control of being a werewolf.

Isaac began talking, his voice continued to jar her back to reality. "Okay, not to be a pessimist but finding out the exact term for the condition where a person, who had a near death experience and came out seeing things, unable to tell what's real or not," Isaac looked at Stiles before turning to Allison, sporting a worried look on his face. It was only then when Allison realized that she had spaced out and he had noticed. "And is being haunted by demonic visions of dead relatives is kind of hard, let alone discovering whatever the hell's the cure," he somberly finished.

Stiles grumbled, giving Isaac a pointed look. "You know, that wasn't very helpful," he remarked dryly.

Isaac laughed humorlessly before apologizing sarcastically. "Sorry, but you see, I was locked inside a freezer for half my childhood, so yeah; being helpful's kind of a new thing for me." Stiles looked like he wanted to go on more and more about Isaac's constant negativity when suddenly, probably to belittle his childhood trauma with his Dad when Allison saw Scott's head turn in the corner of her eye.

As Stiles and Isaac continued to bash heads, she knew that something was different about Scott the moment she saw him turn his head and look at a different direction. Turning her head to see what he was looking at, Allison saw this pretty Asian girl, who she never saw before, walking towards them. Allison looked at Scott, first confused as to why Scott suddenly resembled a living person instead of a walker from a George A. Romero zombie film.

A few moments later, the girl reached their table and smiled at them. "Hi," she said to all of them before she turned to Scott. "Hi." It was like she said that to him and to him only, with Scott's eyes lightening up, his mood remarkably better. Everyone looked at her, waiting what it was she was about to say before she smiled sheepishly. "Sorry. I couldn't help but overhear what you guys were talking about earlier and I think I actually know a thing or two about it—there's a Tibetan word for it, actually, and it's called ' _Bardo_ ', which literally means 'in between states'. It's the state between life and death, kind of like purgatory," Lydia looked annoyed and while Allison didn't know exactly why, she was, too.

"And what do they call you?" Lydia asked the girl, raising a brow at the sudden intruder.

Scott looked dazed as he stared at the Asian girl. "Kira. She's in our History class." Scott said as if it was common knowledge and the girl, Kira, smiled at him.

Lydia recomposed herself, shifting her position on the bench before smiling at Kira with a charm that usually left all other students uneasy. "So, are you talking Bardo, like, Tibetan Buddhism or Indian because they are two different—" Allison realized why Lydia was annoyed: she felt threatened that someone else, a stranger at that, had the answer to her friends' problems when Kira cut her off.

Smiling, she shrugged. "Either, I guess. But all of the stuff you guys have been listing off—dreams that seem real, being haunted by the recently deceased or those you have unfinished business with, losing control _and_ how it's been happening after a near death experience, that's Bardo." Scott pointed to his side, offering her a seat and looked at her intently when she sat down beside him. "You see, there are different progressive states. With some stages, you hallucinate, then you hear, and then you eventually see _and_ hear the deities who visits you." Allison raised her brow at that, noting that as they progress, they get worse.

Isaac's attention was caught at the last word, his eyes narrowing down at Kira. "Deities? What are those?" he asked.

Kira looked at Lydia before answering Isaac's question. "They're kind of like demons, I guess," Allison suddenly remembered all those nightmares of her Aunt Kate, the visions she's been getting the past few days.

Stiles grimaced, frowning at the word before taking a sip from his bottle of orange juice. "Demons. Great, why not add them to the mix?" he said sarcastically, grumpy all of a sudden.

Then, while Kira was explaining, a thought occurred to Allison. "Wait," her brows furrowed in confusion. "If there are different progressive states, then what's the last?" remembering what Kira told them earlier, it seemed like they were going to get worse and worse.

Kira shrugged. "You die," she answered nonchalantly as if it wasn't a big thing. In her defense, it wasn't a big thing because to her, it was all probably just some religious rubbish that she found on the internet but Allison still felt annoyed at her. It was, in fact a big thing and while she can't exactly blame her for not knowing, it just wasn't right.

"Lovely," Lydia remarked dryly, taking another fry from her take-out bag.

"I mean, how could it possibly end in a different way? You get worse and worse. It's like you're slowly losing control until you finally. . ." Kira trailed off, her brows furrowing in concentration, probably thinking of a word best to describe what she was thinking of when she spotted Scott nodding along.

"Snap. Until you finally snap," Scott supplied, finishing for her.

Kira smiled at him. "Exactly." They looked like they were about to talk more when there was this vibrating sound from Kira. Her cheeks flushed in embarrassment when she quickly grabbed her phone from her bag, her face paling when she saw the message or whatever it was she received. "Hey, uhm, sorry, but I've got to go," she quickly stood up and smiled at everyone before rushing off inside the building when Scott stood up and ran after her.

"Hey," he said weakly to Kira, closing his eyes a bit as if suddenly standing up and running had hurt him. "You have Biology with Mr. Krieger after lunch, right?" Allison saw Kira nodding wordlessly as Scott fiddled with his thumbs, occasionally scratching the back of his neck nervously. "Want to walk with me there? Chem is just a few door away," Allison heard Scott chuckle nervously, making this little bubbling feeling inside her unbearable.

Shifting her footing, Allison was about to stand up when she felt a hand on her arm. "Now's not the time for you to act on jealousy, Allison," Isaac whispered to her, slowly letting go of her arm as they watched Scott and Kira laugh at something they didn't quite hear or understand.

Kira smiled before pointing at the cream-colored building. "I'll wait by the staircase, then," Scott nodded, hurrying back to our table.

"Hey, guys, I've got to go," Scott fumbled with the zipper of his bag and messily dumped all of his stuff inside of it.

Stiles snorted. "Your hormones can wait, Scotty," Isaac cracked a small smile when Scott laughed sarcastically.

Ready to run off, Allison stood up and called after him. Thankfully, he turned around and faced her. "What?" he asked sharply, though he didn't snap at her anymore, it sounded just as much and Allison wasn't comfortable with his new mood swings. Scott's expression softened when he closed his eyes and groaned in pain. "Sorry, headache," at that moment, her chest grew light—at least he didn't mean snapping at her.

Allison looked Scott in the eye and sighed. "I was hoping that we could talk," she said calmly. Allison looked over her shoulder and sighed before facing Scott again, intentionally raising her voice so that Isaac could hear. " _In private_ ," Scott's brows furrowed and Allison could see what he was thinking, that he was wondering where all of that was coming from.

Scott looked reluctant, occasionally glancing at the building where Kira disappeared into. "I don't know, Kira's kind of waiting for me right now," he was refused to look at her and avoided her eye. "Can't it wait?" he asked, his hands shaking impatiently as his breathing grew quicker and louder.

Crossing her arms, Allison shook her head. "Scott, I really think that we should talk right now," she gave him a look that told him to follow her.

Groaning behind her, Scott reluctantly followed her to a secluded spot far enough from the table so that Isaac wouldn't hear their conversation. "What is it? Why'd you need to talk to me?" he asked pointedly, still refusing to look at her as if it pained her.

Breathing in deep and trying to keep her calm, Allison closed her eyes before asking slowly. "What was _that_ earlier?" Scott gave her a confused look before his expression morphed into disbelief, as if she asked him to do something so horrible.

Still looking at the ground, Scott turned his back on her and seemed like her was going to walk away when he finally looked at her. "What? Moving on? That's not allowed now? You seemed to be okay with the idea when you were getting close to Isaac but if I want to move on, it's suddenly out of the card?" Allison understood where his anger came from, no mater how unjustified it was.

Allison shook her head. "No, I am not angry at you for moving on, Scott. I want you to _move on_ ," Allison felt her heart skip a beat. She was lying and yet she wondered why Scott's expression didn't change, as if he didn't know. He even looked like he wanted to say something but Allison held her hand up, stopping him before he could actually say what he wanted to say. "But Scott, why are you avoiding me?" she asked, giving him a look before gently taking his wrist into her hands.

At first, he pulled away but when she tightened her grip, he stopped fighting. "I don't know, a sense of normalcy? Aren't normal people— _exes_ —supposed to avoid each other?" Allison gave him a look of disbelief before she shook her head slowly, a bit disappointed at his answer even though she knew that he had lied.

Allison tried to understand where he came from. She remembered how she had lied to him back in purgatory just to stay with him and wondered why he was doing the same but for an entirely different reason. "Scott, we're not just normal people." It was true, their relationship, right from the start, was never exactly normal and while she understood that he wanted a sense of normalcy after all of this, she wondered why she had to be cut out.

A part of Allison thought of her darker days, the ones where she had spiraled into depression and attacked the very people who protected her and sided with the man who controlled and corrupted her, and realized that maybe this was Scott saying that he doesn't entirely trust her, not after what she did ( _Admittedly, what she had done was horrible._ ) but she knew Scott and he wasn't someone to hold grudges, especially not against a friend.

So, when Allison crossed that option out, she was completely left in the dark as to why Scott was avoiding her.

Breathing in deep and letting her heart beat normally, she gave Scott a look. "Tell me, Scott. You know you could tell me anything," she gave him a small smile, trying to encourage him into confiding in her. "I'm always on your side, remember?" Scott, however, shook his head and stepped away from Allison, his expression had morphed into one that showed pain and confusion before he turned his back on her.

Breathing heavily, Scott continued to shake his head and soon began wheezing. A part of Allison thought that he was having an asthma attack before chiding herself. _Scott's a werewolf_ , she thought to herself as she slowly approached him. _He doesn't have asthma attacks anymore_ , she chanted to herself before she placed a hand on his back, going around to see what was wrong with him.

At that moment, Allison realized that it was fitting that she thought of what Scott is because he was shifting, his eyes glowing red as panic started to rise. "Get away from me," Scott said, his voice strained as his breathing grew labored but Allison didn't move away from where she stood. In fact, she inched forward ever so slowly in hoped of trying to get him to calm down and shift back before anyone else could see.

"Scott," she said slowly, her voice even and calm when she took another step forward. "Draw strength from your anchor, like you always do with me," Scott's muscles were strained now and Allison realized that maybe what she had said wasn't helping entirely. "What's wrong?" she asked when Scott suddenly faced her, his expression obviously showing his anger and his borderline murderous glare.

Allison was paralyzed in fear, not knowing what to do with Scott when his murderous expression started to soften and eventually became a pained look that showed how exhausted he was. "You were my anchor, Allison, I don't have you anymore," she shook her head, refusing to believe that defeat from him mostly because he never lost her. "It doesn't matter, what you said back in purgatory, I still feel lost, anchorless," Allison didn't care what he had just said, she stepped forward and placed a hand on his cheek.

"Then anchor yourself again, to me. I'm your lifeline, too," Scott shook his head weakly.

"Don't you get it?" he scoffed weakly pushed himself away from her. "There's a reason why I'm avoiding you, Allison." Her brows furrowed in confusion. She didn't understand him. "It's not that I want to avoid you, or that because it's awkward to be around you, or that I hate," a part of her wanted to sigh in relief but Allison felt like there was a catch to everything he had said. "Yes, Allison, you were my anchor and you were my lifeline but now? Every time I catch your scent or hear your heart beat or see you, I get thrown overboard."

Slowly, the devastating truth made itself known to Allison and weighed heavy on her shoulders. "I'm not your anchor anymore. Instead of helping you gain control, you're actually—" Allison was cut off from her words by a sharp breath of air from Scott, who looked like he had just battled Jackson back when he was still the Kanima or when they had this face down with Peter.

Breathing in deep, Scott finally showed his bloodied hands. "Losing control because of you," Allison realized then and there that Scott had been drawing control from pain and she couldn't even imagine how hard that would have been, to resort to physical pain just to be sane.

Allison wanted to comfort him, rub soothing circular patterns on his back (Scott enjoyed that very much and Allison would tease him, saying that he's just like an overgrown puppy.) but a heavy gut feeling told her not to. Not that she was afraid that he would hurt her because she knows that deep in his heart, he can never hurt the people he loves. But Allison didn't want him to loce control because her code can only do so much and she isn't sure if she can keep her father from killing Scott with the excuse that she loves him. A part of Allison thought that her Dad would stick to their new code, and that would mean that he's kill the man qho saved them just three weeks ago.

So, with a firm and iron resolution and determination, Allison promised herself and Acott that she would help him find a new anchor, no matter what it is or who he chose. A part of Allison's heart ached when she thought about Kira. Scott obviously likes her and she saw how natural he was around her, so at ease that she paled at the new realization that came to her: maybe she's too late in trying to win him back because he has a new anchor.

But then, Allison smelled the metallic scent of blood and remembered that Scott was drawing control from the pain that keeps him human.

Scott turned to her, all of a sudden, with a pained look on his face. At first she wondered why, considering his strong opinion of how she makes him lose control of himself, of the werewolf within him. "Your phone," he croaked before a loud ringing was heard.

As Allison hurriedly fished her phone out of her bag, she began to wonder why Scott didn't hear her conversation with Isaac when they were walking towards their table, or why he couldn't smeel her chemo-signal anymore.

Flashing the screen open and typing her pass code, Allison read the text that Stiles gave her before turning her back on Scott. "Something's happened. They need us back at the table," she gave Scott a quick glance, seeing him nod, before she sped off towards their table, seeing all of her friends standing up to leave their table.

Lydia was the first one to spot her but Allison was quite sure that Isaac heard her heartbeat before she even came near them. "What's happening? What came up?" Allison froze when Scott spoke up behind her.

"My Dad just sent this," Stiles said, typing something on his phone.

Then, in a moment's notice, Isaac and Scott had their phones out before a collection of cellphones rang and beeped. Fishing her phone out again, Allison saw a crime board and a calendar filled with pictures and profiles of people she knew who died. There was one picture of a girl, however, that looked dated, taped to a particular date that was encircled by a red marker. Dragging across her screen she saw why it was marked.

Beside Allison, Lydia hummed. "I know this girl. I remember when the day when the Sheriff's department came into our classroom and asked us if we knew anything about her." Stiles nodded at Lydia. Allison peeked at his phone and saw a more complex and detailed file case on the girl.

"Yeah, a few years ago, Malia Tate mysteriously went missing along with her mom and baby sister before they found the car wreck in the Preserve. Dad reopened the case because look at this," there was another collection of beeps and soon, Allison found an interesting looking date. "The night of their so-called ' _accident_ ' was a full moon," Allison saw Stiles grimace before he hid his phone away. "And we all know about the things that go bump in the night when there's a full moon."

Isaac raised his hand and cleared his throat. "Yeah, so, what do you want us to do about it?" Stiles gave him a look of disbelief while Scott had this expression she hasn't seen in weeks or months.

Scot smiled and when Stiles saw his best friend grin silly, he gave a reluctant smile too. "We're going to find a body. Everybody in?" Allison raised a brow at this, not sure if that was the best course of action for any of them, especially Scott who could lose control and go berserk if triggered.

So, naturally, Allison objected. "Wait, wait, hold on. We just got back, Lydia just got back from being a moving target." Everyone turned to look at her, except Scott, though, he was drawn to the building, his brows furrowed as if he was concentrating on something.

Lydia gave her a look. "Allison, we've already skipped three classes," Lydia grabbed her bag and threw her empty paper bag away. "Why not strive for more and just skip on school entirely for the whole day?" her best friend said as if it was the most obvious thing in the world to do despite the fact that they were going back to the Preserve where, just minutes ago, she became her target because her Aunt Kate decided to pay her a visit while she was holding a primed bow.

Stiles whooped in the air, making Isaac crack a smile. Going to Lydia's side, Stiles began preaching about how rigged the whole school system is and how it's just one big hoax that's wasting their parents' money. He had this determined look on his face that he was going to drop school altogether before he remembered about Coach's quiz that was promised to be so profoundly difficult and made a metal note to study for it.

Isaac just shrugged at Stiles, throwing his backpack over his shoulder. "Well, I'm in, think I'd pass up a chance where I'd get to skip on Mrs. Dodds' Elective Geometry? No way in hell—anything to skip Mrs. Dodd's Elective Geometry. _Anything_."

Stiles gave Isaac a serious look and patted his back approvingly. "In that respect, we are the same." Stiles smiled at Isaac, who gave him a weird and blank expression that morphed into an amused and satisfied look as if he's finished something before the deadline. " _Anything_ ," Stiles echoed Isaac's words, emphasizing the lengths he would go through to skip a single class with a woman who admittedly looks like a fury.

Allison sighed before grabbing her bag that sat on the table. "Fine. I'm in."

While Lydia shot her a grin, Allison saw that Stiles was still focused on his new-found common ground with Isaac. "Who knew that there was something remotely positive underneath all your constant and demeaning negativity and your scarves. I mean, it's like 60-something degrees out here," Isaac narrowed his eyes at Stiles, who nodded. "Right, don't drag the scarves in." Isaac nodded, a smile returning to his face.

Copying this expression Humphrey Bogart had before disappearing into the fog with Claude Rains. "Louis, I think this is the beginning of a beautiful friendship," Stiles looked satisfied at the quote, muttering Casablanca over and over again.


	5. CHAPTER IV - SCOTT

_**The first three chapters of the story has been based on the first episode of Teen Wolf Season 3B, Anchors. Now, however, the story will take a more independent turn and all future chapters will only be loosely based, taking notes here and there from all sorts of episodes from 3B's run. With that said, enjoy!**_

* * *

 **SUCCUMB**

 **CHAPTER IV - SCOTT**

* * *

Scott's heart skipped a beat when he saw the animal clinic and instantly knew that something was wrong.

Allison, Stiles, Lydia, and Isaac already went inside but he stayed behind, making up some excuse about hiding his key behind the stub of his tire when he just placed it inside one of his jacket's pockets. It wasn't like Scott hated Deaton but there was this feeling that made him want to avoid his boss. It wasn't anything like how he felt about seeing Allison— _her presence made him lose control_ —but the thought of Deaton scares him, all of a sudden.

Getting off his bike, Scott felt like someone was watching him and when he turned, he saw his beta and friend, Isaac, giving him a weird look before looking at the tire tracks left by the motorbike. "Awesome riding. Where'd you learn that from?" Isaac said mockingly but Scott heard this tiny voice, this low tone that asked if he was alright and if riding his bike would always be like that.

Shaking his head, Scott ignored the comment and went inside the glass doors despite the gut feeling that told him not to.

A wave of cold air hit his skin and the smell of animal-friendly chemicals and medicine was the first thing Scott noticed. Tilting his head to a side, Scott heard his best friend open a small jar before the scent of mountain ash exploded into the air. He could hear how the powder was slowly being poured into another container. Leaning in closer to hear better, Scott heard Stiles chuckle sheepishly when footsteps resounded. " _Never know when I might need some_ ," his best friend explained.

Scott's thoughts slowly drifted to a question as he began wondering why Stiles would have needed mountain ash when he remembered History with Mr. Yukimura and the notebook incident. Scott knew from the look alone in Stiles eyes, how his muscles were strained when he tried to help him. _Hell_ , Scott thought to himself when he remembered how Stiles avoided him after the class finished, _I could even hear him get goosebumps_!

Much like how Scott was afraid of seeing Deaton, he knew that Stiles was afraid of him. But the resounding question was _why_. Why is he afraid of Deaton and why is Stiles afraid of him?

Isaac passed by him, moving towards the counter to get to the examination room. "You coming inside?" his voice jarred back Scott to reality. Still feeling the gut feeling that seeing Deaton was something he should avoid, Scott shook his head and just pointed at the green and stuffy sofas in the waiting room.

Scott pressed an arm to his abdomen. "Been having this stomach bug lately," Scott gave Isaac a tight smile before plopping down unceremoniously on the couch. Isaac grunted in response before joining the others, obviously not buying his lie but at least it made sense. Scott knew that Isaac knows about him staying in his bathroom and while he couldn't really persuade his beta otherwise, having an alibi that made sense was half the battle he fought with making everyone believe that he's fine.

Leaning back into the sofa, Scott closed his eyes to get some rest. A sigh escaped his lips, feeling comfort, when haunting flashes of red light attacked him and the scent of blood reached his nostrils. Images of Stiles' dead body came flooding through his mind. With a sharp breath of air, Scott opened his eyes and blinked drowsily, feeling nauseous all of a sudden with the image of killing his best friend still fresh in his mind.

Scott groaned and sat up straight to reach for his bag, realizing that he wouldn't be sleeping because his nightmares weren't going anywhere. Unzipping the main compartment, Scott grabbed the thermos he packed earlier and drank the coffee he had prepared earlier.

The taste of coffee woke him up and immediately made a face at the bitter taste.

Ever since the bite, Scott found that coffee, for him, became unbearable and Stiles explained that he was a werewolf— _an overgrown puppy, was Stiles' exact words_ —and caffeine wasn't something he'd enjoy. Isaac was a different case because he was used to the taste of coffee. Being a werewolf in the first few months meant having your every mental and physical skill heightened and magnified beyond control, Derek told him that Isaac couldn't stand sleeping because he'd remember how he was locked inside a freezer so he always had coffee, which is why he has a gold Starbucks card.

But Scott wasn't Isaac. He wasn't used to the taste of coffee, and his nightmares weren't composed of haunting images of killing his best friend.

Isaac, as a friend, has been nothing but supportive and helpful, contrary to his retort that being helpful was a new thing for him and his dry remarks that hid his real intentions—he just wants to know how he is. And yet, even though Scott knew that, he felt anger course through him whenever he'd spy on him for Allison or when he'd push him to get better because he has no idea what he's going through.

Scott felt guilty for being mad at his beta but there was a part inside of him, somewhere deep down, that wasn't guilty. Scott was honestly afraid of that part of him because whenever he'd dream of killing Stiles, that part of him would take control and he'd be forced. Scott would scream and yell and fight as much as he could but all he can do was watch through his eyes as his body was doing someone else's bidding.

He knew how that part of him felt, Scott felt his body smile against his will. The person controlling him was enjoying the kill, had no remorse and had no fear. Scott was afraid of that person. Who wouldn't be?

But Scott knew that dreams weren't to be taken lightly. He's read a book before, about dreams and how they're symbolic most of the time. And then there was another book about demigods and how their dreams are prophetic. Scott's heart pounded hard against his chest—what if the dream was his body's way of warning him that the predator inside of him was taking control.

Scott's lips trembled. He didn't want to be a monster. He didn't want to be the kind of werewolf that the Argents would hunt down.

Remembering Deaton's words about stopping the darkness from getting to him, Scott shook away the negative thoughts and eyes the wall beside him that divided him and his friends. He stood up, wanting to join them when there was a creaking sound from a door and hushed tones.

Walking closer, Scott pressed his ear against the wall. There was a shuffling of feet in the examination room, probably where Isaac, Lydia, and Stiles were because he heard their voices. Smelling the air, Scott traced the scent of mountain ash and of tranquilizer from the room where they were. Scott heard someone, probably Isaac, opening an overhead cabinet and hearing the drawer squeak.

A part of Scott wanted to stop, thinking that maybe the weird sound of the door came from the cabinet but then realized that it was way too different. Pressing his ear against the wall again, Scott closed his eyes and concentrated before soon catching the scent of cats mixed with Allison and Deaton's scent. Scott realized, through the sounds of meowing and hissing, that they were trying to have a conversation in private so that even he and Isaac couldn't hear them.

Scott focused and concentrated to catch an audible word from them. After breathing deep and clearing his mind, Scott heard his boss' voice, standing above all the other noise that cats created. " _Miss Argent_ ," Deaton said, he could almost see a smile on the vet's face. " _I take it that you're here to discuss about your progress from our sessions_?" Scott heard a whoosh of air and smelled Allison's lavender shampoo before smelling silver and dry-cleaned clothes that had hint of mistletoe and mountain ash. " _Or perhaps you came to collect your personal effects that you've left some time, say, three weeks ago_?"

There was a shift in footing from someone light. Scott knew that it was Allison, figuring that Deaton would have made much more noise. " _No, but I am here to take something_ ," Scott heard Deaton hum ever so lightly before moving across the closet, clinking of bottles was heard as his boss rummaged through their supplies.

" _Scott's, I presume_?" it was faint, but Scott heard the Allison's hair sound as she nodded.

Scott's eyes widened, thinking what Allison was taking. Pressing his ear against the wall, Scott only realized his mistake when he heard the cats screeching and hissing. He had lost his focus and he didn't know what it was that Allison took from Deaton. Trying to focus, Scott closed his eyes but then picked up footsteps coming his way.

Scott crossed the room as fast as he can without making any noise and controlling his heartbeat. After what seemed like an eternity, Scott managed to get back to the sofa just in time for Isaac, Stiles, and Lydia to enter the waiting room. Scott's heart beat began skyrocketing as bullets of sweat began to form on his forehead, his breath quickening from the close call he just had. Isaac noticed, of course, and had a worried look on his face. "Stomach bug?" he asked and Scott nodded, hearing his beat's heart beat.

Fighting off the smile as he pretended to wince in pain, Scott nodded. His beta was starting to believe his alibi and he didn't really have to lie about having this heavy gut feeling that made him nauseous. Brushing away the sick feeling, Scott stood up and grabbed his motorcycle helmet. "We ready to go?" Isaac's eyes narrowed at him and held his hands forward, as if trying to pacify him into doing something. "What?"

Isaac had this alarmed and cautious look on his face. "Maybe when you calm down first?" Scott fished out his phone from his pocket. Facing the black screen of his phone, Scott realized that his eyes were glowing red again. Feeling a growing pain inside his mouth, Scott saw that his teeth were sharpening and he was slowly shifting into a werewolf. "Scott, I need you to calm down," Isaac said a bit more firmly than before.

With his heart racing like a horse, Scott took a step backwards until his back was pressed against the wall. He kept of thinking of good things but it all eventually came back to thoughts of killing Stiles. Scott blinked hard, breathing fast as he pressed his nails into his palm and drew blood, relishing in the control pain brought him when he caught a scent.

Slowly, Scott could feel his muscles relaxing and his vision became normal again before he wiped his hands clean of his blood and fished out a piece of scented paper with a number. _Kira_ , Scott thought to himself when he breathed in the paper and looked intently at the phone number written on it.

Before they left school, Scott found Kira waiting by the staircase and immediately felt guilty about having forgotten about walking her to class. So he did what he did best when it comes to the girls he's disappointed before: he apologized and asked for a second chance which turned out to be a date.

Scott didn't know why he was attracted to Kira or why he liked her, but there was something about her, something in her that made him want to be near her always. Her scent was oddly familiar, too, as if he's caught it years ago because it was so faint, like he knew it from a past lifetime or something. It was weird, but Scott oddly felt drawn to her and her scent.

Across him, Isaac calmed down, too, and nodded at the sight before him, a small teasing smile appearing on his face. "Maybe I should bring her along sometime, too, if that calms you down," although it was a joke, Scott didn't like the idea of having Kira brought along to their pack missions. A part of Scott thought that it was okay for him to be like that, to _not_ want Kira to be around him because he's a beacon that attracts anything supernatural and being around her could just bring her into a world where she's constantly in danger.

Scott would have been happy with that conclusion. He didn't want the girl he likes(?) to be around when he's doing his dangerous escapades with his friends. That he wants to protect himself, too, if she turns out to be something like Kate Argent or some psychopath who wants to bring death to all the supernaturals, and while Scott knows that she isn't, he can never be too safe.

But there was this underlying threat in his stomach that said she's more than the new girl, that she's more than a wallflower. A part of Scott's mind told him that she's a force to be reckoned with and that he should be careful around her. _Or her family_ , Scott thought to himself when Allison and Deaton came into the room.

While Scott's not counting Kira in because it's way too soon to tell, he could confidently say that Allison is the first and only girl he's ever loved. With that being said, he doesn't much experience in the world of dating but so far, he's had rotten luck with his ex-girlfriend's family— _her dad threatened to kill him at gun point, her mom tried to kill him with wolfsbane, her aunt tried to kill him, her grandpa coerced him to do his bidding **and** tried to kill him_ —so he's hoping that if ever things go in a more-than-friendly way between him and Kira, he'd get lucky with her family.

"Is everything okay?" Scott heard Lydia's voice as she asked, feeling her eyeing him warily as he stood in the corner of the room.

Scott nodded, sighing before he walked away from his corner, feeling dizzy all of a sudden because of the lack of support. Scott immediately grabbed the edge of one of the sofas and gripped it tight so that he wouldn't fall towards the floor. "Just peachy," he smiled at Lydia before he crossed the room and walked out the glass doors, heading towards his dirt bike before he put on his helmet.

Suddenly, Scott's phone rang and once he fished it out of his pocket, he saw a message from Stiles. It was a map towards the where the car had tumbled down only to crash. Memorizing the trail, Scott placed his phone inside one of his pocket and steadied his backpack before riding off with his friends hot on his trail.

Eventually, the road got rockier and the buildings on both sides of the streets were replaced by trees until Scott found himself in the middle of the forest when his phone suddenly beeped, vibrating inside his pocket. Scott went to a side before getting off of his bike, the lights from Stiles' Jeep and Allison's Prius appearing beside him. Seconds later, Stiles came out armed with a baseball bat, Allison with her crossbow, Lydia had a flashlight in hand, and Isaac happily stepped out of the Prius, whistling as he checked his watch.

Knowing Isaac, he was probably happy because he got to skipped Mrs. Dodd's Elective Algebra.

With Lydia taking her place in front of everyone, Scott kept looking around to see if there was any threat to their lives. So far, he's satisfied with how the only heartbeats he's hearing happens to be a few birds, a number of insects, a coyote, topped of with some woodland creatures and some predators that are a bit far from them.

Stepping on a branch, Scott's head snapped towards Lydia's direction when she grunted her the heel of her boot sunk into the ground. "You know," Lydia grumbled as he continued walking, "Malia's body was never found and for what I remember from the news, Henry Tate filed for a missing person's case. So, technically, wouldn't the car be evidence?" Scott shot his friend a look, fighting a smile off as she obviously complained about being out in the woods.

A small smile found its way on his face when he remembered how Lydia convinced Allison to join them in finding out what really happened to Henry Tate's family that night his wife was driving their kids home.

Stiles faltered a bit, obviously stopping to catch his breath. Scott was reminded of his younger self, of how he used to be that kid, the boy who needs a break every once in a while because he was a severe asthmatic. "Guess it was too much pain in the ass," Scott nodded at it, seeing reason in it.

Scott remembered the first few weeks after Malia initially went missing. There was so much hope that she would have been found only for a massive amount of blood to turn up a few days later into the search and rescue. In the end, Malia was legally dead.

Scott could only imagine how painful it was for Mr. Tate not only to bury his wife and child— _something a parent should never go through_ —but he also had to bury an empty coffin. It's simple enough for Scott to understand without ever going through that experience that there would never be any closure to that.

Suddenly, as they were carefully finding their footing as they climbed down a slope, a coyote howled and Stiles grabbed Lydia's arm, making her drop her cellphone. Scott saw the screen go dark once it hit the foot of the slope and beside him, Lydia gave Stiles a sharp look. "Sorry," was his best friend's sheepish apology.

Lydia huffed before moving her foot to take another step down but momentarily lost her balance when her heel got stuck on a twig or something. Instinctively, Scott's arm reached out for Lydia and steadied her. "It's alright," behind him, Scott knew that Allison's attention spiked when she heard him say that. Her chemo-signals went off like fireworks, and while he didn't know exactly why, those words rolled off his tongue sounded oddly familiar to him as if he said it before to Allison. "I'll get it."

Digging his shoe on the somewhat soft soil, Scott carefully climbed down and eventually reached the foot of the slope after having a slip up where he hit his head hard. He blacked out and his head ached, at first, but then bent down to try and find Lydia's phone. Scott looked around and closed his eyes, trying to remember where it landed and realized that it must be near the car wreck. Walking towards the overturned sedan, Scott squinted in the dark trying to see the phone before deciding that it was way too dark for him to find it without some sort of light.

Hearing his friends slowly make their way down to join him find Lydia's phone, Scott took his phone— _which almost slipped from his hands, dropping it even_ —from his pocket and flashed the screen on the ground trying to get some sort of reflection.

After a few moments, Scott bent down and jogged up near to Lydia with her white mobile in hand. Wiping it dry and clean, Scott handed it back to his friend when Isaac beside him tensed up. At first, he wanted to ask his beta what was wrong when he heard it—there was an extra heart beat and Scott was sure as hell that it wasn't human.

"Isaac," Scott only flashed one look at his beta, nodding his head before he went into the forest to chase after what had growled at him. On the chase, Scott ran as fast as he could and felt himself tire out, taking a moment for himself to breath when his muscles tensed and his hearing picked up something so animal, something predatory. Turning around, Scott saw a coyote baring its teeth at him, growling menacingly.

Panting, Scott took a look at the animal before him when Isaac finally caught up to him in the clearing, albeit being across him by the field. The coyote had a grey coat that shimmered in the moonlight, almost appearing silver, which made Scott's heart ache painfully.

Silver. Argentum. _Argent_.

Scott knew that it was a bad idea to dig his claws into his palm, seeing that he would draw blood and the scent could cause a wild animal near him go rabid and uncontrollable. Breathing in deep, Scott tried to calm himself down as his hand instinctively went to his pocket, trying to get Kira's number written on that scented piece of paper with the ink smudged with the end her finger print, only to find that it was gone and missing.

Slowly, his vision began to fade and blur. He felt his pupils dilate and his irises glow red uncontrollably. Gulping, he panted deep and panicked though Isaac seemed largely uninterested and was fixed on something else.

"Scott, I think the dirty coyote is Malia," Isaac had his hand held out in front of him as if he was trying to calm down the animal in front of him but Scott breath hitched and got caught in his throat. "Scott, I think Malia is the—Scott?" Isaac's voice trailed off, echoing like they were inside a cave.

Scott wanted to ask Isaac what was wrong, what he meant with saying that Malia is the coyote or something when his body suddenly sprinted off in the distance and he found himself in a dark place.

Scott looked around even if it was pitch black. The preserve was a dark place, in general, but subtle beams of moonlight would stream through the leaves of the trees and he's sure that the forest wouldn't suddenly become pitch black. Running around, Scott began to hyperventilate when the temperature suddenly dropped, his mind racing as he remembered his dreams. "No, no, no!" Scott gritted his teeth as he eyed his surroundings, digging his nails deeper into his palms to wake up but it was useless.

" _It doesn't bark, it doesn't bite but it still won't let you in. What is it?_ "

Scott's eyes widened when he heard the eerie voice. The familiar eerie voice that kept haunting him in his dreams. Immediately, Scott began running away, remembering what happened when he would and wouldn't answer. He shook the thoughts away from his mind, reminding himself that he may be a predator but he isn't a monster. Stiles is his best friend in the whole world and he would rather die than think of killing him, Scott thought to himself as he kept running away from the voice that kept repeating the riddle.

It was ironic, actually, the riddle used this time because he's a werewolf, one who does roar and growl and bite, facing a (possible were) coyote, that growls and bites.

Still running, Scott then heard this sharp whistle that made him fall to his knees. His bones broke and snapped in several different places. Scott remembered that night in school when Peter made him turn against his will and he had to fight this incredible urge to kill his friend who were conveniently herded in a room. Memories flashed through his mind as his younger self locked the door from outside before hearing Allison's cries and pleas reverberating through his eardrums.

Scott knew that his love for Allison was stronger than his blood lust because she was his anchor. Admittedly, he knew to himself that the only thing stronger than his powerful urge to kill was his love for that one girl but now, he's not so sure. Now, a part of Scott is wondering what if he had just let the predator in him win that night.

Because the blood lust flowing inside of him is screaming at his every fiber, begging for a kill. Scott wonders to himself that if he had killed them that night, would he be going through the immense pain he's feeling right now? The pain of having to feel his every bone in his body break— _something that should kill him_ —but it kept going on and on, repeating itself. Scott cried out in pain, wondering, regretting that he locked the option of killing out.

"Why did I lock it?" Scott asked himself weakly as he bit down another scream. He asked himself the question again. Why did he protected Allison? Why did he lock that door? " _Lock_. Lock, lock, lock," he snapped, finally letting the pain into him, answering the riddle.

" _Very good, wolfling_ ," the eerie voice praised and finally, Scott's vision returned, but it wasn't back to normal.

Breathing heavily, Scott heard heavy and fast footsteps behind him and he recognized the familiar scent of sweat-soaked Indian cotton scarf that Isaac wore. "Scott, no!" he saw his beta's golden eyes glowing in the distance. Scott wanted to ask what was wrong when he felt his body move against his will. It was like he was paralyzed and was being forced to watch a movie with shaky shooting. It almost felt like a found film type kind of film, like the Blair Witch Project.

Suddenly, there was rustling in the wood and Scott felt his body run after the coyote even though he willed his body to stop. He didn't want to hunt down the coyote because Isaac told him that it might just be Malia. But there was a part of him that allowed it.

Scott really did want to stop—he's against any type of violence and he wouldn't want to hurt any animal or human or anything, really—but there was a part of him that wanted to go after the coyote because he wanted to kill. It wasn't strong, because Scott knew that he could control it and he could bear with it, but it was like a bad gut feeling that wouldn't really go away. It wasn't too much but it was noticeable and he hated himself for feeling that way.

Scott chided himself as he tried to stop himself from hunting down and hurting the coyote. He's a true alpha and he's not going to start being one with killing.

Suddenly, his body stopped. Scott sighed in relief, thinking that he finally regained control when suddenly, Scott threw ran towards the edge of the cliff and took the coyote with him, falling some ten feet before plunging into the cold water of a lake.

For a few seconds, Scott felt like drowning but his body resurfaced and marched towards the shallow ends, his chest heaving. He didn't know why his body suddenly jumped off into a lake but it was obvious that his body didn't feel any pain but he did. Every step his body took hurt him, like he had a sprain that wouldn't heal and it was odd enough because he can't get sprains— _he's a werewolf_ —but the fact that he was feeling it while he couldn't _control_ his body, while his body seemed to be unscathed by the ten feet drop and yet his mind ached when his head hit the water first.

Scott heard rustling and then there was this sharp ringing in his ears, the pain of his bones breaking becoming noticeable again. Scott's body, though, as he could feel it, didn't even react. It's like his mind was a different state altogether, like he was a different person altogether.

Scott groaned in pain even though his body kept standing straight and still. A part of him wondered that, if answering the riddle gave him back his vision, then what if killing the coyote would give him back the control of his own body? Scott wondered that if he killed the coyote, would the pain stop? Would his bones cease to snap and break in half?

Isaac's voice rang in his mind, remembering what he had said in the clearing. " _Scott, I think the dirty coyote is Malia_ ," his beta said but they didn't have definite proof that the coyote was Malia Tate. And if ever, wouldn't that make her a killer? Scott saw the coyote's eyes, flashing ice blue which meant it killed before. Remembering the Code the Argents used, then he has a reason to kill. Maybe it's not even Malia, Scott thought to himself, justifying his thoughts when he began walking towards the coyote.

Nearing the coyote, which was actually limping, Scott's shoelaces got caught on something. Looking down to free himself, Scott saw something—his irises were glowing blood red, like how an alpha's eyes normally would, but his sclera was pitch black, something like a demon's eyes would be like.

Demons.

Scott tried to remember when he had heard it before—

He was suddenly tackled to the ground and in the distance, Scott saw the coyote running away. Finally, his body— _and not just his mind_ —ached and saw Isaac on top of his body. His beta had tackled him to the ground, so it seems. "We don't," Isaac began, saying in between breaths. "We don't. . .go around," Isaac breathed in deep before regaining his composure, helping him up to his feet. "We don't go around killing the people we need to help," Scott raised a brow.

"What?" Scott still felt the pain and slowly, everything was getting blurry. "I don't—what happened?" suddenly, darkness enveloped him and the next thing Scott knew was that he was being carried back to the entrance of the camping grounds of the Preserve where his bike was parked at alongside with Stiles' Jeep and Allison's Prius.

Isaac eventually left him to get him to stand on his own, and after a few minutes losing balance, Scott managed to stand on his own.

"Did we find Lydia's phone?"


	6. CHAPTER V - STILES

**SUCCUMB**

 **CHAPTER V - STILES**

* * *

Beacon Hills Preserve serves as an all-around venue for all sorts of stuff. For the athletic and outdoors-y people, the preserve can be used as this rigorous training ground or this amazing nature trail or maybe a retreat for those who wants to spend a night camping under the stars. Another use is that it could be a ideal location to gather data for a descriptive college thesis. The preserve is also a home to numerous harmless and downright dangerous animals all the while serving as a seasonal hunting grounds for those _traditional_ hunters, much unlike the Argents. And lastly, the preserve is a crime scene.

 _Or will be_ , Stiles thought grimly to himself when his best friend, if he could still call Scott that, and Isaac disappeared behind the thick trees of the forest.

Stiles didn't exactly know what it was that made the bushes rustle. At first, he tried to think positively, that maybe it was a little and peaceful woodland critter that would have done him and his friends absolutely no harm whatsoever. But when Scott and Isaac burst running to the other side of the small clearing they were in, all the optimism he had in mind flew out of the window, especially when they heard Isaac yell out Scott's name.

Looking around, his eyes fixing on the space between two trees where Scott and Isaac disappeared into, Stiles noticed that someone was glaring at him and when he turned to see that it was Lydia, he was kind of disappointed that it wasn't the murderous animal at large that was staring down at him. "Aren't you going to run after them?" Lydia asked sharply.

At first, Stiles was frozen on the spot he was standing on, his legs refusing to budge or move an inch despite his mind telling him to go after his best friend and find out if he's safe. But memories of his nightmares would come up and rewind themselves, reminding Stiles why he's been avoiding his best friend. "What? Me?" Stiles pointed to himself with his aluminum baseball bat as Allison aimlessly pointed her crossbow at random objects that moved because the wind was blowing there.

Lydia's eyes narrowed at him. "Yes, _you_ , you whiskey-eyed imbecile!" she hissed before she pointed to the spot where Scott and Isaac disappeared into the forest.

Stiles gaped, his expression incredulous. He couldn't believe her at that moment. "If you haven't noticed, those two are werewolves and are armed with super sharp claws and scary fangs, not to mention they have super healing!" Stiles pointed to himself while Allison made this whoosh sound when she fired an arrow, only to land at a branch of a perfectly harmless tree. "I'm a human— _no healing powers_ —and I'm armed with a baseball bat, no less." Looking at Lydia, Stiles spoke up without thinking. "Besides, aren't you supernatural? Why won't you go after them?" Stiles regret the words as soon as it left his mouth.

"Have you forgotten that I'm a banshee? A harbinger of death, Stiles Stilinski?" it was scary as fuck to Stiles knowing that the past few bodies they've found was initially discovered by Lydia. And he's sure as hell that it was no coincidence especially when Scott would wake him up with a call in 3 AM to say that she screamed.

Stiles groaned, shaking his head, his arm extending out to reach her, apologize when Lydia avoided his hand, obviously angry with him. "Lydia," he said softly when she made her way the clearing. "Stop, no, please. I wasn't thinking, I didn't mean it," Stiles didn't really want to have Scott near her, not when he's out in a snappy, borderline murderous rage in the forest.

Running after Lydia, who unsurprisingly didn't care about her designer heels anymore and was way ahead of her, Stiles grabbed her arm when an arrow whooshed pass by them, causing for the both of them to lose balance and tumble down the slope they were climbing earlier. Moving his arm, Stiles heard a twig snap violently in half and while he hoped it wasn't his or Lydia's bones, he was sure that it wasn't related to their bodies and it freaked them out.

Slowly sitting up, Stiles realized that they had landed at another foot of a slope, quite far away from where Allison was when something violently snapped again, causing Lydia to jump in his arms. "What was that?" she asked, her voice showing how scared he was when he heard it—two metal parts creaking before roughly snapping into each other like an asteroid colliding with a comet running at the same speed as it was.

Stiles gulped his fingers brushed against something cold and metal. Picking it up, Stiles saw that it was a bullet and realized that he and Lydia managed to the parts of the Beacon Hills Preserve where some of the animals were _legally_ hunted down because most of the creatures there were invasive.

"A bear trap. Apparently, of all the places we could land in, we chose the hunting grounds," Stiles muttered under his breath, carefully standing up and looking at the somewhat steep slope beside him. "We have to get out of here," he said as calm as possible, squinting at the field before him trying to figure out what was a good spot to step on and what the hell wasn't.

"Take out your phone," Lydia said, her eyes fixed on something in front of them. Stiles did as he was told, sending a text message to Allison as fast as he possibly could when his eyes glanced at whatever it was that caught Lydia's attention—it was a coyote, whose snout was covered in blood, and eyes were ice blue. While Stiles was no expert, he's sure that coyotes' eyes weren't supposed to change colors so naturally, he came up with one conclusion: werecoyote.

The coyote in front of them bared its teeth at them and, instinctively, Stiles took a step back, mirroring Lydia's actions when dust and small pieces of rocks started raining from above them. Shielding his eyes, Stiles heard an arrow go whoosh as Allison fired at the coyote. He sighed in relief until the arrow hit the ground, enraging the coyote even more. "Not the best result for an excellent marksman," Stiles called out while Lydia just looked at the coyote circling at them.

"Well, my hand hasn't been steady for quite some time now," Allison called back, annoyed while Lydia sighed beside him.

Lydia muttered under her breath. "She's had a tough week." Stiles scoffed.

"That's not really an excuse for her to use you as a moving target!" Lydia shook her head when some rocks and pebbles rained down on him from above. Stiles glared at the spot where Allison was.

An arrow flew from above. "I heard that!" Allison yelled, moving to another place probably to get a better shot, disappearing all of a sudden.

The coyote probably focused on Allison because when Stiles looked around, the animal was gone. "Ahh, perhaps it's going to commit murder somewhere else," Stiles said wistfully but Lydia glared at him before she gulped. "Why? What's wrong?" there was a horrible gut feeling with him and when Stiles looked down, he saw Lydia's foot pressed on the pressure plate of a bear trap, its jaws climbing whenever she moved her foot a bit.

Lydia tried her best to remain calm even when the coyote made an unsurprising reappearance. Stiles was starting to hate the coyote, partly because it could possibly kill him and mostly because it's kind of reminding him of a character who made everyone believe that he or she's not going to be a problem anymore only to make a comeback a few episodes later. "Allison, are you there?" all they heard in reply was the name Kate being repeated over and over again.

Looking around, Lydia pointed at a dimly lit rock platform. "What? What's that?" Stiles asked Lydia, who was still sweating bullets.

Lydia visibly gulped beside him. "See that? That's our way out but we won't be alive to get there if I have a bleeding leg because one, I'll be dead weight and second—" Stiles cut Lydia off, knowing well what the scent of blood makes to animals and what it means to predators.

"You'll smell like prey." Stiles finished grimly before Lydia nodded.

"So that's why I need you to find that instruction written inside the metal jaws and disable the trap, got it?" Stiles paled at her demand, remembering every single event of the day. He shook his head and Lydia nodded, understanding what was wrong with him. The look of horror on her face made Stiles even more terrified.

"You can tell if you're dreaming if you can't read but then again, you're having trouble figuring out what's a dream and what isn't," Lydia muttered to herself. "You're having trouble reading, aren't you?" she connected the dots and Stiles kept staring at the jumbled words of the inscription carved inside the metal jaws, trying to reassemble the letters but they kept moving around. Eventually, Stiles looked at Lydia and met her pained expression.

Stiles shook his head and stared back at the bear trap. "I can't read a thing." He admitted, Allison above them just kept shooting arrows that made the coyote inch forward, growling and baring its teeth every once in a few seconds, scaring the living lights out of Stiles whenever it would move closer towards them. Stiles kept thinking that it would pounce at them soon and aim for their necks.

Another arrow whooshed and a whimper came from above. "Allison!" Lydia called out, unknowingly moving her foot and making the jaws of the bear trap jerk upwards by a few inches. "Allison, I need you to stop wasting your arrows, okay?" there was no reply, only an arrow flying to hit the trunk of a tree quite far away from the coyote and another one hitting the ground. Lydia groaned in frustration and gave him a look. "Keep on concentrating," Lydia said sternly.

"I keep seeing her, Lydia, she's everywhere!" Allison yelled from above them, a random arrow landing near Stiles. "I can't focus!" she panted from above and Stiles wondered what it was like to see visions of a dead relative. A part of Stiles wanted to know what he would be like if he started seeing his dead mother out of the blue.

Lydia sighed as Stiles kept trying to read the inscription on how to deactivate the bear trap. "Breathe in deep, Allison. You need to stop angering the coyote and focus more on scaring it away!" Lydia yelled out as the coyote took another step forwards, growling ever so loudly at them.

An arrow flew but it was far away from the coyote, who only grew more angered. "I can't. I'm trying but I can't!" she cried out when Lydia shut her eyes, trying to concentrate when he saw that look on her face. He remembered that look on her the first time he saw it. Stiles remembered third grade when she couldn't get the answer right and spent almost the whole math time trying to answer a single question when she tried long division instead.

Stiles knew it when Lydia's eyes flew open. She was changing tactics. "Allison!" Lydia yelled out, catching her best friend's attention as a word managed to form for Stiles. "What's your code?" there was silence from above. "What's your _new_ code?" there was no reply at first but then a wave of arrows started hitting the ground close to the coyote, earning a growl from the animal who soon then backed away, a small victory cry was heard from above.

Stiles could see Allison giving out a small laugh from above, almost hearing the same laugh that made Scott fall in love for the first time. "I did it!" Lydia almost cried when she laughed, happy for her best friend. "I'm, coming down," rocks and pebbles came tumbling down and Stiles paled at the thought of Allison landing on one of the bear traps. Remembering the small path Lydia pointed out, Stiles yelled out and flashed his phones towards the rock platforms a few meters away from them.

Stiles could feel the weird glances Allison was giving him. "The ground here, it's literally covered with bear traps!" immediately, the rocks and pebbles and dust clouds from above ceased. "There's a platform that could lead you down, it's a few meters away, at five o'clock," Stiles yelled, warning Allison and feeling a heavy feeling from his chest grow lighter.

He and Allison have been at odds ever since they've met, actually. Stiles always thought of Allison as the girl who stole his best friend away from him, the girl whose family beat him up in their basement. But Stiles warned her because she realized that she was Scott's girlfriend, the woman who gave his best friend such joy and kept his humanity in check and the wolf within him at bay. Stiles realized that it was her family, her grandfather who beat him up, not her.

"Thanks," she muttered before a few rustlings were heard. Soon, Allison was nowhere to be found and Lydia still had her foot pressed against the pressure plate and Stiles literally could see the exhaustion in her eyes.

Lydia groaned at the sight of him hopelessly staring at the inscription. "Time for _your_ epiphany, I suppose?" Lydia asked, desperate as she listed down some ways to make him focused but there was nothing and Stiles still felt like he couldn't read. There was this sinking gut feeling that he couldn't help Lydia when a rock hit him from above.

Suddenly, the world went black and he was transported near the river bank of the preserve.

He looked around, trying to see the bear trap and began wondering why the hell Lydia suddenly disappeared from his side when he was violently thrown into the air only to land terribly rough into the solid ground. Stiles coughed, his back aching from being tossed around like a limp doll. "Scott," he called out for his best friend instinctively, wanting his best friend and brother to come and help him.

A few moments later, Stiles sighed in relief when red eyes glowed in the dark. He doesn't know much alphas around town and the ones that do come at him tend to want to kill him on the spot for either his sarcasm or his usual level of annoying.

So, when Stiles saw the two black bands and the properly tanned skin that belonged to his best friend, he laughed. He was going to be saved. "God, I thought you would have never found me," Scott helped him up to his feet, unusually quiet and not himself in general. Stiles wanted to ask why and what happened to him when he got a good look at his best friend's eyes and realized that the man helping him wasn't Scott at all.

Stopping dead in his tracks, the Scott dopplegänger gave him an evil smirk before tossing him into the air, his back now against the trunk of a tree. Remembering being initially thrown into the air, Stiles realized that it was probably Scott who gave him a little seismic toss earlier as fear started to pool in his mind. "Don't kill me, please," he begged, though a part of Stiles wanted to have it all end. _Maybe_ , Stiles thought to himself, _death will be peaceful_.

On the ground, Stiles crawled away from his best friend. He tried running away but it was no use, Scott easily walked up to him, picked him up, only to slam him hard against a rock platform, effectively breaking a bone or two. His pain reminded him of his dreams, of the nightmares that he'd literally have to scream himself awake from.

Stiles yelled out in pain, groaning afterwards as Scott gave him a sucker punch to the gut. Stiles saw the oxygen escape his lips when he realized that he couldn't breathe, not when Scott had his fingers around his neck, especially not when his best friend has a super strong grip that is chocking him to death—

Stiles bit down a yell as his head began to feel heavy and he felt dizzy. "Scott," he said weakly, trying one last resort to try and free him from dying from suffocation at the hands of his _best friend_. Stiles remembered what Kira told them earlier during lunch before they decided to skip school entirely: demons can visit them. Stiles had this waning in and out of consciousness but his determination was renewed to not only save himself but also to save Scott.

Stiles needs to find a way to make the demons _un_ -visit Scott.

Stiles may not be Allison who can drastically affect his heartbeat or Isaac who makes him want to be a leader but he's Stiles, the best friend he's known for almost his entire life. Stiles gritted his teeth as he searched for any sign of his best friend as he looked at the Scott dopplegänger's eyes. It was actually a terrifying sight to see red irises surrounded by black sclera, but Stiles forced himself to man up and face Scott with a brave face.

Stiles knew what he was doing a few weeks ago. He was scared of Scott so he avoided him but what he didn't realize was that he kept pushing the man away. Stiles knew his best friend— _his brother_ —and he knew that Scott would never lay a finger on him, he wouldn't dare touch a strand of his hair if he knew that would hurt him. Scott would never hurt him, not willingly but he still avoided him because he was afraid of who he is, of what he is, and of what he's going through.

 _Was_. Stiles wasn't afraid anymore.

Stiles felt something hot and sticky run down his neck and realized that it was actually his blood because the dopplegänger was drawing blood. Despite wanting to scream and yell out in pain, Stiles did no such thing. He really wanted to beg his friend to stop but he said nothing. "Scott," his voice was raspy and weak. "You're not you. You don't want to do this. You're not a monster, Scott, you're a predator but you're not a monster." Realizing that he was still alive, Stiles figured out the difference between this vision and his nightmares.

He'd end up dead at this part, his throat ripped out by Scott's teeth.

"You're my brother, Scott, and we don't do this to one another," slowly, the darkness in Scott's eyes faded away. "You're a predator, Scott, not a monster. You're just an alpha with performance issues but you've got a good heart and you won't kill, you help people live their lives without the threat of danger. You protect them, Scott, you save lives," and just like that, Stiles was transported back to the spot where he and Lydia was, Allison rushing towards them in the distance.

Finally able to breathe without having someone choke him to death, Stiles finally read the instruction and twisted the handle on a lever. Soon, he heard a small creaking sound with gears clicking in place. Looking above him, Stiles' met Lydia's gaze when she slowly lifted her foot off the pressure plate. The metal jaws, thankfully, stayed in place before he kicked it away, making sure that it wouldn't get to any of them.

Beside him, Lydia cracked a smile and kissed him on the cheek, his world suddenly frozen. "This is for saving my life," Allison looked away, pretending to be on guard but Stiles knew that she was trying to give them privacy. "Thank you, Stiles," it was a small peck on the lips but Stiles felt like it could go on for an eternity in his mind.

Lydia Martin kissed him, and it wasn't because he was having a panic attack.

Allison coughed, clearing her throat. "We have to get back to the car wreck, maybe Scott and Isaac are already there," Stiles nodded, brushing off the dirt from his pants and helped Lydia up. Stiles wanted to see his best friend and he wanted to apologize for being a crappy brother for the past few weeks. He avoided him even knowing that Scott needed him but Stiles would set things right now.

Lydia took a step but lost her balance. Stiles caught her right away, steadying her with his arm. "Woah, steady there. I've got you," Lydia smiled before nodding at Allison who gave them a small smile. "We're good," Stiles smiled and slowly made his way on top of the slope. After a few minutes of walking, he spotted the dusty metal of the car when he saw a small detail.

Helping Lydia get closer to the wreck, Stiles trailed his fingers at the door, which was slashed. Looking at Lydia, Stiles knew that she was thinking the same thing he was thinking of. "These should be closer together if it were from an animal," Stiles nodded, taking his phone from his pocket and texting his father. His Dad was right, the whole Malia Tate disaster some years ago was because of the supernatural and now they have a murderous were on the loose.

Putting his phone back, Allison's phone rang and soon, they were making their ways towards the spot where they left their rides. They waited for Scott and Isaac there, the latter sounding super angry on the phone. After a few moments, Isaac appeared with Scott's arms slung over the beta's shoulders. Stiles immediately ran up to Scott, who Isaac was helping so that he could stand on his own.

Scott looked like absolute shit. He was soaking wet, probably drenched to the bone, and cuts were visible from where Stiles stood. "Did we find Lydia's phone?" was Scott's question before his best friend fainted, slumping over to a side but Isaac caught him pretty quickly and carried his best friend all the way towards the back seat of his Jeep, not caring for the seats.

Once Scott was inside Stiles' Jeep, Isaac glared at him. "Where the hell were you?" Isaac barked at him, earning a glare from both Lydia and Allison. "I've been calling on your cell asking for your help with Scott," Isaac explained everything that happened and the first thing Stiles wanted to do was to drive his friend home. "And that's exactly what you're going to do," at first, Stiles was confused until he remembered that werewolves could read chemo-signals and that was practically one step away from mind-reading. "And after that, you're going to stay away from him," Isaac finished calmly.

"What? No way!" Stiles wasn't going to do that. That was his brother and best friend and he was not going to repeat his mistakes.

Allison stepped forward to protest on his behalf. "Isaac, that's out of line," she began but was immediately cut off.

Isaac turned calmly to Allison. "The both of you. The both of you should avoid Scott. You've been all avoiding him, after all, and Stiles, I don't hate you for doing what you did." There was this sense of being sorry that Stiles could pick up from Isaac. But the disappointed look on his face told Stiles everything he needed to know: Isaac never really did approve of him avoiding Scott. Stiles' had this heavy feeling in his stomach because he knew that Isaac was right.

He shouldn't have avoided Scott like the man had the plague. _What if he needed you_ , a panicked thought ran in his mind thinking back to the three weeks Scott constantly tried to force a meeting with him but he just shut away his best friend. A part of him thought that maybe his forcing a meeting with him was Scott trying to him to listen or to help. _Some best friend you are_ , Stiles scoffed in his mind, reprimanding himself for being a crappy friend.

Isaac cleared his throat, drawing Stiles back to reality. "But right now, I have to look after Scott because he's been doing worse than ever and while I'm sure you all want to help him in your own little ways," Isaac looked at Allison, who was by his side. "I'm not letting any of you do that because you can't help him when you can't help yourselves so do everyone a favor and stay the hell away from each other." Stiles understood where Isaac was coming from—he's the beta and he wants to protect his alpha.

Stiles wanted to argue but when he saw the resigned expression on Allison's face, he just gave up, too, and went to Lydia's side. Stiles drove his friends home, Melissa waiting for them by the driveway. The sad smile she gave him, the way she just nodded her head when she helped Isaac carry her son, it almost killed him. He made a sigh that sounded like something in his rib cage broke in half.

Melissa knew about him avoiding Scott. And she just smiled at him like it was okay. It wasn't.

Stiles, that night, went to bed and fell asleep for the first time since coming back from the dead wishing that he would have his nightmares, that he would yell and scream himself awake, anything to ease the heavy feeling he felt in his chest because he felt like he had to do something, feel something or at least pay for what he did. Stiles, for the first time in three weeks, actually slept without a hitch and woke up like anyone would—to an alarm clock and not to himself as he fights off the restraining arms of his father.

The rest of that morning was quite blurry. He had no missing notebooks or textbooks, all of his stuff were neatly packed inside his bag and a small excuse letter was signed and folded inside a pocket of his backpack. There was not a single incident with orange juice or toasts, and everything was generally okay except it wasn't because there was this sinking feeling in Stiles' stomach that gave him a really bad feeling.

His Dad was reading the morning paper, sipping on his big mug, smiling at him. "Someone had a good night's sleep," it had been almost a routine for his Dad to check up on him and for him to lie almost every morning about being fine but it finally broke when he actually said that he was fine and mean it. But then again, he was okay physically— _or at least he was on his way_ —but mentally and emotionally, the thought of abandoning his best friend had been weighing heavy on him.

Stiles nodded. "Yeah, I did," Stiles muttered under his breath before taking another bite from his buttered toast before noticing the piling banker boxes in the corner of the living room near the door to his Dad's office. "What are those for?" Stiles pointed behind his father's back, getting a somewhat different expression that he couldn't really understand.

Taking a sip from his coffee, his Dad folded the newspaper and set it aside, standing up. "Just some, uh, files from the office," Stiles noted it then and there that something was wrong. His father wouldn't react that way. "Listen, I've got to go to the office, lots of work to do, I guess. " His Dad chuckled nervously when he pointed to the pile of banker boxes inside the living room. "Stay safe, Mischief, don't skip again," his Dad said, trying to steer the topic of the conversation away from the banker boxes.

Keeping an eye on his Dad, Stiles grabbed his backpack and headed for his Jeep, starting the engine when he realized that his father called him Mischief. His brows furrowed at the nickname, remembering that his Dad would only call him that when he's hiding a secret from him. The last time his Dad called him that was when he asked if his Mom was going to be alright.

" _Everything's going to be okay, Mischief._ "

The soft-spoken words rang in his mind and Stiles stared at the rear-view mirror of his Jeep, looking intently at the police cruiser exiting the driveway. His Dad was hiding something and Stiles vowed to find out what it is and while a part of him wanted to trail his Dad, he knew that he wouldn't get anything if he acted suspiciously. Stiles adjusted the gear shift and slowly reversed his way out of the driveway—he'll find out whatever it was his father was hiding from him.

* * *

 _ **To those who are confused about the meaning and message of this chapter, this is basically Stiles' mea culpa, his epiphany detailed. Allison and Stiles are slowly but surely threading their way on to the road of recovery, or so until something were to happen to them.**_

 _ **Just kidding, but please, be keep an eye out for the formidable trio. Anyways, thanks for reading and reviewing, favorite-ing and following! You guys are making my day and are making me so pumped and inspired to write the next chapter of Succumb. Hope that I could make this more interesting for you guys!**_

 ** _Anyway, on a random note, did you see the official trailer for Teen Wolf's Season 6B? Awesome, right? It's like they're bringing back the original cast with how Tyler Hoechlin, Dylan O'Brein, Colton Haynes and Charlie's there(minus Allison, but I'm hoping she'd come back in the end)! Loved how, the day before, the cast were posting snippets._**


	7. CHAPTER VI - ALLISON

**SUCCUMB**

 **CHAPTER VI - ALLISON**

* * *

Allison gently deposited the broken, vintage bronze casing to her father, who eyed the watch. Her Dad turned it over onto the back side and noticed the engraving before handing it off to the clockman who agreed to repair the watch. " _To Mel. Love, Rafe_." Her Dad said as the clockman, Monroe, nodded nervously as he was being carefully watched by her father.

It was actually weird for Allison to have her father arrange a meeting with a Weider Blutbad, a supernatural— _or as they called themselves, Wesen, which was pronounced as 'VES-in'_ —German cousin to the werewolves who originated from the Mediterranean, even if it was to fix a watch. And looking at the man replacing the shattered glass on top, Allison was sure that it was weird for Monroe to have a hunter to ask for his services.

Flashing a beam at the hands of the watch, Monroe hummed happily. "You know, even though it's not my first time working for a supernatural hunter," he told them earlier of a story of how he befriended a Grimm, which was a hunter family notorious in Germany for killing all the violent Wesens. "A vintage Lusina, very nice. Probably made in the 30's, the engraving's neatly done, professional." Monroe said, expertly tweaking the gears of the watch. Allison watched as the back was removed to give a clearer view of the clockwork. "Just a beauty, I mean look at that! Valjoux movement and a triple calendar!"

A small piece of glass fragment was stuck in between one of the main gears, that and the slightly rusted metal parts. "So, how long would you think it would take before you can fix the watch?" her Dad asked, his tone intimidating but she knew well enough that her father was just being himself.

Monroe sighed when he spotted another fragment of glass, ignoring her father for a second. "Oh, this is tragic," Monroe turned around to face her and her father, pointing to the numerous small but significantly large shards that caused the gears to stop moving. "What happened here? Did someone fall off a cliff or something?" he asked but Allison kept silent, the guess not too far off from what had actually happened to the owner of the watch.

Her Dad beside her just shook his head and Monroe nodded, facing back to the side table of their apartment.

Taking a small pair of tweezers, Monroe started picking out all of the shards. "Something supernatural, I guess?" Allison, unknowingly, nodded at the guess and soon, Monroe pulled out a shard of glass that was stained lightly with dried, black liquid. Allison paled at the sight when Monroe held it up. She remembered how she left Scott alone in purgatory. "Lycanthrope. A werewolf, eh? _Lupus humanus_ ," Monroe brought the tweezers near to his nose and smelled the piece of shard.

Allison shrugged, suddenly feeling like she had spilled all of Scott's secrets. "So, how long would it take to get it fixed?" Allison asked, echoing her father's question.

Monroe shrugged, fishing out yet another shard. "Well, there are too many fragments to remove and I still have to clear the gears of all the rust, but I guess that it's safe to say that in about 3 to 5 days, you'll get the watch back in tip-top shape." Monroe said, placing the tweezers into a small container which held more tweezers of various sizes. Allison held her breath when Monroe placed the watch in a small velvet container, wondering if having she made the right decision.

Allison knew that Scott wouldn't be too welcoming of the idea of having her as his anchor again. In fact, Allison doubts that she'll be his anchor ever again, but she owes Scott that much, for everything that he's done to protect her and her family. Allison remembered that night with her Aunt Kate— _the name brought a few questions. Allison noticed that her aunt stopped visiting her or haunting her and while she wasn't sure if that was a bad thing, she wondered why_ —Scott risked his life going against his alpha just to make sure that she was alright. Scott's moral compass would stray if only for her sake.

So, with that reminder to herself, Allison balled her fingers into a fist and watched as her father gave Monroe a down payment for the watch's repair. "That watch costs an awful lot for a thank you," her Dad joked but she didn't have any of it. Immediately, her father nodded and handed her car keys. "But I suppose it's the least I could do for the boy who saved me and my daughter's life," Allison nodded absentmindedly, her thoughts still with the watch.

Allison remembered the night they sacrificed themselves. She brought her father's silver bullet, the one he made when he just finished his hunter's training. Allison still remembered the cloudy silver metal, how it felt so cool against her warm skin before they submerged themselves in an ice bath that stopped their lives. Her phone vibrated against her bag, missing a call from Lydia when she saw an event planned: today was a half-day for school because of a faculty assessment from the Board of Education and she saw next to it was a sub-text that showed the upcoming events.

It was her appointment with Deaton at the animal clinic.

Allison remembered how Deaton told them about anchors, and how it could do so much for anyone. Allison realized with a sharp breath of air that if things go well with the watch as Scott's new anchor, there would be nothing that will stand him and Kira. It was no secret that when Isaac jokingly suggested that they bring along Kira, Scott denied it as fast and as determined as he could because he didn't want her getting hurt. There was no lying when she saw the worry and concern in Scott's eyes back then.

A part of Allison's stomach churned. While Scott's always been the person who tried to shield and protect everyone as much as he could, there was this edge to his voice that reminded her of how he would stop her from getting entangled into a fight. And she knew it was because he loved her, and that of all things, he wants to protect her. Now, Allison could see that Scott was doing the same for Kira with the same intensity in his eyes and the same edge and softness in his voice.

 _If this ends well for Scott_ , Allison thought to herself as she saw Monroe give her a sympathetic glance before disappearing into the elevator, _he'll end up with Kira, no doubt_.

Grabbing her backpack inside her room, Allison pressed her fist against her lips trying to prevent the whatever it was that itched at her throat after she sat on the edge of her bed. She remembered how she broke up with Scott that night they defeated her grandfather, when Jackson finally finished his transformation and became a werewolf. Allison remembered the hope in his eyes when he mentioned how he knew they were going to be together, how fate would bring them back.

Little did they know that their break-up would set things up for so many things that eventually went back in circles. Scott let her go and in the end, she almost got got involved with Isaac, someone so entirely like Scott. In the beginning, Allison had no idea how it was possible for her to open up and love someone again who wouldn't be Scott but she did and with that realization, she easily figured out that nothing is impossible, that there will be other girls for him.

Just like with her experience, Scott will fall in love again and it'll probably be like the first time, maybe even just as painful. And while her feelings did eventually come back to Scott, there's no saying that the same would go for him.

Allison remembered a conversation she shared with Scott, how he promised her that there will be no other girls beside her and she said the same thing. But if she could change, if she could open up and love someone else, albiet for a short period of time, then Allison asked who is to say that he wouldn't change. There's nothing impossible, and while getting back together isn't rued out of his options despite being so unlikely, it's also possible for him to end up with Kira.

Breathing in deep, she realized that a tear escaped her eyes. It wasn't too late to run after Monroe, to take the watch back but Allison stopped herself, remembering Isaac's words back then at lunch yesterday. " _Now's not the time for you to act on jealousy, Allison,_ " with the words echoing in her mind, Allison wiped her tears as she tried not to think of the whole thing altogether but ten she remembers that night when Deaton paired her with Isaac, the look on Scott's face.

" _It's okay._ "

Allison wondered how the hell Scott managed with the pain and the defeat. She could remember how he couldn't mask the hurt at first, how his shoulders slumped in defeat when Deaton announced who would anchor them to humanity. A small sob escaped Allison's lips as he tried to calm herself down, convince herself that everything was going to be alright. "It's okay," she said to herself before gritting her teeth and making her way into her bathroom.

Walking over to the sink, Allison splashed water on her face to clear the streaks left by her tears, occasionally looking and shooting glances at the corner of her bathroom, expecting to see her Aunt Kate. She wanted to see something, get something that would somehow take her mind off the hurt she was feeling. But there was nothing there. It's like she's suddenly fine after what happened last night in the woods.

Staring at her reflection in the mirror, Allison realized what she had to do: she had to move on from her relationship with Scott.

Stepping out of her bathroom, Allison crossed the room and took out a book from her shelf. It was a medium-sized paperback novel by Jandy Nelson entitled _The Sky Is Everywhere_. Opening the book, she immediately landed on a particular page with a picture serving as a bookmark. It was the picture from the photo booth when she and Scott went ice-skating with Lydia and Stiles. She's kept it all along and realized that she shouldn't keep holding on, not when she's trying to move on.

With a shaky hand, Allison took the photograph out of the pages and placed the book back in the shelves. The photograph still in hand, a part of her wondered if she should give it to Scott, only to realize that it would have been a disastrous move. Scott did the same thing when they took a break, just after the incident with Peter in school when he had locked them inside one of the science labs to keep them safe from him.

Realizing that she should just throw it away, she found that she couldn't. So, going down to her knees, Allison extended her hand out and reached for something under her bed. Moments later, a small but dust-covered box was in her hand. Lifting the cover, she saw the things she used to enjoy with her Mom, the extremely blurry shots she took when she was in her photography phase, some of her old paintings and self portraits.

Inside the box were basically things she would always bring with her, things that would always describe her but ultimately left behind. A small part of Allison supposed that one of those things she'd leave behind is Scott. Forcing out a smile on her face, she realized that she has to do it so she placed the picture on top of cross stitching— _it was something she and her Mom used to do and she never really did enjoy it so she doubts if she'd enjoy it now that all it probably does is remind her of her Mom_ —before closing the box with the lid.

Placing it under the bed's edge, Allison pushed the box until it had hit the wall. Breathing in deep, she grabbed her bag from the edge of her bed and realized that her Dad was watching her all along, standing in between the door frame with a proud look on his face. "Come on, let's go," Allison wordlessly nodded, heading straight for her father's arms. "I'm proud of you, Allison, I'm proud of us," he said, whispering into her ear as he helped her to the elevator.

When Allison and her father reached their parking space, the black SUV and the silver Prius in sight, her father pulled her into another wordless embrace and it felt nice for Allison, to have at least let her father know what she couldn't say to her Mom. She realized, when her mother had already died, that she tried her best to let her know the night before. That despite her faults, her Mom had good intentions and realized that they had that much in common.

Allison had Scott's best interests in her heart but she gone by it the wrong way. _Maybe_ , she thought to herself while strapping on the seat belt, _letting him go will redeem me_.

The whole while, after the entire incident with the Nemeton, Allison realized that she's been trying to help Scott get better out of personal interest. And while she does love Scott to want him to get better, she wanted him in the end. Allison had an ulterior motive and while wanting him back isn't particularly bad, she's realized that it wasn't completely right either. She loves him, no past tense and no doubt, Scott will hold a special place in her heart and she will always be in love with that boy who gave her a pen during first period.

Corny as it is, Allison loves Scott enough to let him go. With a determined huff of hair, she drove away towards Beacon Hills High School with a goal in mind—help Scott, _as a friend_ , find another anchor so that he could help himself.

Locking in on a parking spot, Allison grabbed her bag from the passenger seat, spotting a small 5x5 family picture she keeps on the dashboard before heading towards the main entrance of the HS complex, spotting Lydia at the other side of the student-filled hallway. Allison waved at her best friend, noticing that Lydia has on her face what seemed like a genuinely relieved smile. "You look significantly better last time I saw you," she commented with Stiles by her side.

A part of Allison wondered what Stiles was doing here with Lydia and not with Scott until she remembered the highlights and end that dampened everybody's mood during their little escapade in the preserve when Isaac had dragged a soaked to the bone and dazed Scott who promptly who asked a question that he should have known the answer to seeing that he was the one to have found Lydia's phone when they were going down a somewhat steep slope to check the car wreck that Evelyn Tate drove off a road.

Apparently, it was all a supernatural incident and now, Allison and her friends are trying to find the werecoyote who is supposedly Malia Tate, the adopted daughter of the woman who drove off the road, killing her and her biological daughter.

Allison still remembered that night. Isaac had Stiles drive him to Scott's place but had told them (her and Lydia) to stay put and wait for Ethan so that he could take the motorcycle home. It was only then, when Stiles sent a text of having sent his best friend home did the Sheriff and a few deputies appeared with Henry Tate and Agent McCall. The whole case was reopened but the Agent refused to disclose any information, having sent them home immediately after the whole clearing of the wreckage.

Shaking off the thoughts of last night's events, Allison raised a brow as to why they were hanging around near the exit. Her thoughts immediately came up with the idea of another group activity with a colorfully planned itinerary which would start off with skipping classes when she remembered why this particular school day was marked: today was a half-day so Allison immediately crossed the idea of skipping classes out of her options.

Allison checked her phone for the time and realized it was fairly early, that mot much people would be at the outdoor lunch court or anywhere they usually group at. "Why are we here?" Allison raised her brow when suddenly, as if on cue, her cellphone vibrated and rang its ringtone. Checking her phone, it was a text from Isaac, telling her to stay with Stiles and Lydia and that he's on his way to meet them there, earning curious looks from her friends who received the same text.

Putting her phone back inside her bag, Allison looked at the main entrance, expecting Isaac to burst through the doors with Scott by his side, chatting away and laughing loudly enough to make everyone's heads turn to their direction. But Isaac didn't walk through the main entrance; in fact, he appeared through the doors at the opposite end of the hallway, an unreadable expression marked his face in a way that Allison knew that something bad had happened.

A few moments later, Isaac reached them, giving Allison a long and steady glance. It was like he was studying her and he couldn't believe what he was seeing. "What happened?" Allison asked Isaac who looked at her and at Stiles, whose brows were furrowed deep in confusion. Lydia glanced around, something that made Allison aware of her surroundings and realize that something was wrong and someone was missing from their group. "Where's Scott?"

Isaac looked behind him, his muscles were visibly, yet lightly strained when he tilted his head to a side and closed his eyes shut as if concentrating on something. "He's with Kira, he's in class right now, actually," Allison's heart skipped a beat when she heard the two names in one sentence. The thing is, about her letting go with Scott, she agreed t stop pining for him but she never really did think to stop loving him because it seemed hard, even impossible to do it.

But Allison was willing to try and stop loving him that way if it meant helping him, so cleared her throat and controlled her heartbeat, breathing in deep so that she was in control of her emotions. "Isn't that a good thing?" both Lydia and Isaac gave her questioning glances while Stiles openly gaped at her, surprised by her sudden coolness with the situation. "Scott's with Kira, he's basically in control of his emotions. She is his new anchor, right?" Allison asked but Isaac's brows furrowed as if he was thinking of how to answer that.

Lydia gave her a look, opened her mouth to say something but shook her head instead, opting to stay silent. "I'm not sure on how Scott sees Kira," Isaac answered honestly, his expression showing much that Allison knew that he was trying to relive memories to prove a connection. "But all I know is that she keeps him calm enough. She keeps his _emotions_ in check, keeps him from lashing out in public," Allison caught on to his tone, picking up on how Isaac stressed the word.

Apparently, so did Stiles, who pushed himself off the locker he had been leaning against. "Kira's only been keeping him in check, which may be a good thing or a very bad thing," Stiles muttered to himself and cupped his chin, deep in thought. "Her keeping his emotions in check would either mean, _a_ , Scott's genuinely happy with her and being with her is obviously helping him recover from the shit-fest we've all been through," a teacher nearby heard Stiles and yelled through the noise of the hallway that he had detention for 2 weeks starting after the faculty assessment. " _B_ , Kira's planning something entirely diabolical and she's evil, but I doubt that because she doesn't seem evil," Allison remembered that Stiles was also the person who thought Matt Daehler was (one of) the real bad guys.

Isaac nodded at his explanation, supporting it. "Yeah, Kira's pretty decent, but she's kinda off to me, you know? Smells a bit weird, if you ask me," Isaac shrugged before letting Stiles continue.

"And, _c_ , just prolonging the inevitable, making it pent up into one big , giant ball of negative energy before he snaps and turns into Peter," Allison, though she wanted to believe in the first option Stiles gave, leaned towards the last one because the look on Isaac's face gave her this feeling that Kira keeping Scott in check wasn't particularly a good thing.

Lydia, being herself, steered the topic away from the incredibly grim picture Stiles painted for all of them. "So, why'd you tell us to meet here?" Isaac turned to her best friend. "You've got to have a reason other than telling us that Kira may or may not be good company to keep around Scott," her tone was evasive, as if she knew something but she was trying to pass it off as something normal or like it's not a big deal or something.

Again, Allison caught Isaac looking at her and Stiles. "Right, the moment I saw Stiles, I knew something was up," beside Lydia, Stiles gaped at Isaac.

"What's with me?" he asked, incredulous.

Isaac shook his head and held out his hands in front, almost annoyed. Allison only noticed it now that Isaac had eye bags and his hair was a mess, as if he didn't sleep all night. "You didn't let me finish," he almost growled at Stiles. "So, last night, Scott woke up and asked me to check on you," Isaac looked at me. "I thought that it was normal and it was. I listened to his heartbeat and nothing's changed, he wants all of you guys to be safe but what I did notice was that you're _fine_ ," Isaac emphasized, pointing at her and at Stiles.

Stiles had a skeptical look on his face. "So, you're angry at us because we're recovering?" Isaac groaned and Lydia gave Stiles a sharp look hat obviously translated to her telling Stiles to shut up.

Massaging his temple, Isaac groaned. "You," Isaac pointed at Allison. "You're not getting anymore demonic visions from your aunt, right?" Allison nodded, her brows furrowing at how Isaac could possibly know about what's been happening to her. "And you," Isaac looked at Stiles before grabbing some book from a passing kid. "You can read this, right?" the kid protested initially protested but when Isaac glared at her, she quietly agreed to him borrowing it.

Stiles sighed. "You're holding it upside down," he grumbled before Isaac fumbled with the book, getting frustrated and just giving it back to the kid, sending her off.

"You didn't scream yourself awake, didn't you? No nightmares? Just a plain old dream about all of your socks getting dyed red!" Stiles looked shocked, glancing around as if to check if they were surprised, too. Allison could see it in Stiles' expression that Isaac was right about the lack of sleep paralysis and his accurate guessing of what his dreams were about. Looking at Scott's best friend, Allison did notice that he was getting better—there was more color to his skin, smaller eye bags, and he looks a great deal better.

Stiles grumbled when he crossed his arms. " _Again_ , what is the point of his constant negativity?" Isaac ignored the dry remark, looking intently at her and Stiles.

Then suddenly, it all made sense, what was happening to her and Stiles. "Lydia," Allison immediately turned to her best friend, startling Stiles a bit and earning a suspicious look from Isaac. "Back when we were in the preserve, when you had your foot on the pressure plate, you helped me get over the visions when you asked me what was my code." Lydia nodded and Allison remembered her _new_ code, the one Scott told her when Deucalion was about to kill Jennifer.

"We protect those who cannot protect themselves," Lydia murmured before she turned to Stiles, whose eyebrows were furrowed in deep confusion. "How did you read?" Stiles cupped his chin and thought deeply before his mouth formed a small _o_ shape and looked at Isaac.

Pointing at Isaac, Allison knew that Stiles had figured something out. "You told me to stay away from Scott. I was staying away from Scott, I didn't know why I hadn't thought of it earlier," he muttered to himself before his eyes were fixed on the ground, thinking deeply. Somehow, Allison had a gut feeling that told her she knew what he was talking about. "I was avoiding Scott because I had these nightmares where he would kill me and at first, I thought I was afraid of Scott because he was losing control but then I realized that I was scared of him for being him, for being Scott!" Stiles' hand trailed off somewhere to his head before showing a small scar.

Isaac looked at the small wound quizzically. "That's from last night," Isaac muttered, looking at her and Lydia. "Hardly even a day old." Stiles nodded, vouching for Isaac.

"See, just when I told Allison about the clear path, a rock fell on my head and I suddenly relived the dream. It's exactly like my nightmares, even up to the part when I was begging Scott for my life when I realized, why should I be scared of my best friend? I wasn't afraid of Scott, so when I told him that he's a true alpha, that he doesn't kill people, when I reminded him of—" Allison cut Stiles off, her smarts catching up to her as she realized his point.

Allison recounted the events of that night in the preserve when she realized she was shooting at her aunt, the vision of her dead aunt. She wasn't afraid of her Aunt Kate, and she didn't to hurt her because her code tells her to protect those who couldn't. Allison wasn't afraid of her aunt, she was afraid of becoming a monster like her. "Of his code, your dream changed. Scott didn't kill you and when you realized that you weren't really afraid of Scott, you could read." Stiles nodded, pointing at her approvingly.

Beside Allison, Lydia had a weird expression on her face that she couldn't really decipher what it meant to her. "Exactly. I wasn't afraid of Scott, I was afraid of death and dying and my dreams morphed it into it was like I was afraid of my best friend." Allison realized that it was all symbolism but she wanted to know what exactly jarred them back to being normal, or at least back to the way things were before they had served as surrogate sacrifices for their parents and died in an ice bath.

Then, Lydia looked at Isaac, confused. "Then why are you so worried? If Stiles and Allison are getting better, then isn't that a good thing?" Lydia asked but Isaac just groaned, defeated, his eyes turning to face a clock near them before leading all of them to an empty staircase.

Looking at them, Allison had this heavy gut feeling that made itself unbearable, it was like the feeling refused to fade away. "I'm worried about Scott," a thought rang in Allison's mind and immediately thought of Kira before she shook her head, chiding herself for thinking like that of a girl she's just met. "He's not getting any better and when I noticed Stiles, I knew something was up," walking up the staircase, Isaac paused for a moment, taking a good look at all of them. "What happened last night?"

Allison reminisced all of her memories from last night, trying to remember every detail there was to take note of when a student passed by her, the girl's red hair exploding in the air when a freshman ran into her. Red hair, _strawberry blonde hair_. "Lydia!" Allison turned to her best friend, who was obviously shocked by her sudden outburst. "Lydia helped us through that night, when the coyote was about to attack when they were trapped," Stiles nodded, probably remembered the events from last night.

"Yeah! You reminded Allison of her code, and that must have set it off one by one. That's why I reminded Scott of his code," Isaac's brows furrowed at this, unimpressed with their conclusion.

Isaac raised his collar, readjusting his scarf, before crossing his arms with a lackluster expression on his face that told Allison that their shared hypothesis wasn't the case there. "So, what? You're telling me that Scott needs a few hours with our resident psychiatrist, Dr. Martin? Scott needs a _real_ solution here," at first, Allison was offended. Lydia was the reason why Allison snapped out of her trance and she wanted to tell Isaac off but when she heard the urgency in his voice, she realized that he's just as stressed as anybody and Scott wasn't just _not getting any better_ , there was something more to it.

Stopping in her tracks, Allison looked at Isaac, this sudden concern washing over her that made her realize just how scared she was for Scott and a burning anger for Isaac because he hid things from her. "What's going on with Scott?" she asked pointedly and she knew that Isaac caught on to her words. The look on Stiles face slowly morphed from confusion to curiosity. "What's happening to Scott?" Isaac, at first, looked conflicted and reluctant to say anything but soon, he sighed and gave in.

Lydia and Stiles appeared by her side as they interrogated Isaac. "He's not getting better, in fact, I think he's getting worse. I told you that Scott woke up last night an asked me to keep an eye on you but what I didn't tell you was how he woke up." Isaac muttered under his breath. "I got him to his room when he froze, it was like he went into shock. I was about to scream for Melissa when he managed to tell me that something was wrong with all of you," Allison nodded, connecting the dots but was confused on one thing.

"That's why you agreed to leave him. You thought that something was wrong with us. But how come you didn't hear him lie?" Stiles asked.

"Because he genuinely believed that something was wrong with you. Kept muttering something like darkness or Jameson, and when I came back from finding out that ' _danger_ ' was all bull, he was inside the bathroom with his swivel chair and a bloody mug filled with packets of coffee." Allison racked her brain, trying to remember anything about a Jameson but came up with nothing. The thought of darkness came to her, however, when she remembered the shadow-y figure that came at Stiles back in purgatory, which broke Scott's watch and started all of the mess they were in.

So, with as much courage as she could muster, Allison tugged on the strap of her bag and looked straight at her best friend. "Lydia should always be with Scott and Kira," Isaac looked like he wanted to protest. He kept saying how it was a waste of time and effort but Allison had none of it. "Stiles and I, we're something kind of like a wild card for Scott so we have to gradually make our way back to him, we don't need another outburst like what happened at the forest," Allison remembered the fear resonating in Isaac's voice when he told them of what happened to Scott.

Stiles, nodding through the whole game plan, raised his hand. "What about Malia? The whole coyote with glowing blue eyes never really sit well with me and I'd like to close that case up pretty quickly and neatly—meaning I don't want any blood spilled, and by that, I mean my blood," Lydia looked at Stiles and he just looked baffled. "I don't have super healing or super _screaming_ or bad-ass hunter training," Stiles listed off with his fingers while Isaac just snickered. "Yeah, try not to enjoy this so much," Isaac shrugged at that.

In the end, they agreed with the plan and Isaac left first, going to make sure that Scott was restrained both emotionally and physically while Stiles left the group for a training with the rest of the lacrosse team—Scott, in the meantime, was excused for missing practices because he was the one, after all, who had died for the longest period of time enough for town to find out and only for him to miraculously wake up after being proclaimed dead by doctors from Beacon Hills Memorial Hospital.

In the end, after Stiles pressed a short kiss on her best friend's cheek, Allison and Lydia were walking down the hall to their first class. " _So_ , what was that about?" Lydia began, drawing out the first word. Turning to face her best friend, Allison initially had no idea what Lydia was talking about and the first thing that came to her mind was taking charge for a game plan for the days to come and how they would approach Scott and help him get better.

Allison just shot her friend a look. "What is _that_ exactly?" Lydia sighed as they took a turn and entered a classroom, choosing seats in the edge seats of the last row.

Lydia shot her a knowing glance and pointed at the teacher in front of them. It was Mr. Yukimura, the new History teacher who is also Kira's father. "Last I recall, you're still quite in love with Scott," Allison opened her mouth to answer but found out that she couldn't. "Ah," Lydia hummed knowingly, lifting her perfectly plucked eyebrow at her. "You are still in love with Scott and you're not okay with Kira spending time with him," Allison narrowed her eyes at Lydia.

Taking her History book out of her bag, Allison cleared her throat before facing the front when Mr. Yukimura started discussing. "I am, in fact, okay with Kira spending time with Scott. We're both moving on and I respect that," Lydia, beside her scoffed. Allison ignored the indignant look her best friend gave her when she started taking down notes when, all of a sudden, Lydia took her ballpoint pen. "Give me back the pen, Lydia," Allison said, trying to be as calm as possible.

Lydia scoffed again, grabbing her own textbook to show the particular page they were studying. "We're studying about Auschwitz, Allison, and we both know that you can answer a hundred-item test and pass without studying for a second." Allison sighed before giving Lydia a sharp look, finally looking away from the printed text on her book that she, admittedly, knows like the back of her hand.

"Just give me the pen back, and I swear that I'll talk. Just give it back," Allison was getting annoyed when she said said the last few words through gritted teeth. Lydia just smiled cheekily before handing the red retractable ballpoint pen, holding it by the black rubber grip.

Allison quickly took back the pen and immediately put it away in her pencil case before hiding it in her bag for safe keeping from her pen-stealing best friend. "I don't get why you want the pen so badly, though, I mean you could get a pack at Target for a dollar—" Allison just kept quiet, she said nothing and refused to do anything that would come as a reply. Her silence, however, was easily noticed by her best friend who immediately stopped talking and realized what the pen is and how important it is to her. "That's the pen, isn't it? The one he gave to you the first day?"

For a moment, all Allison and Lydia could hear was Mr. Yukimura explaining the harsh conditions and reality inside the concentration camps by using a power-point presentation and clips of interviews from survivors to show pictures of the facility. To sum it all off, Mr. Yukimura was telling the class of how brutal, depraving, and sadistic life was inside the camp.

As much as Allison wanted to sulk around, mope, and focus on her problems as if the world revolved around her, she found certainty inside her that helped her brush it off with a tight smile and a curt nod. _Slowly_ , she thought to herself, turning to face her best friend entirely, _you'll move on from this slowly but surely_. Allison gave her best friend a tight smile and a curt nod of the head. "Yeah. Gave it to me the moment I sat down," Allison remembered it clearly as if it was just yesterday.

Allison remembered telling the principal that she was fine with finding her class on her own but the man insisted (Her parents happened to be very generous when they gave a donation for a portion of the library.) on walking her to the classroom, even introducing her. She wanted to groan, but it was done so she just waved, smiling at the people who looked largely uninterested at the idea of a new classmate. She crossed the room to get to her seat and then _he_ was there.

Allison stared blankly across her seat, looking at the back of the boy's head in front of her. Slowly, the bleach blonde hair grew darker and the neatly cropped 2x3 became longer and floppier. Soon, the boy turned around and it was Scott, with a small and somewhat goofy smile that came off as shy but a hopeful one at that. There was a click pen inside his hand and he offered it to her. " _Thanks_ ," Allison breathed out, unable to say anything else so she just smiled wider at the boy in front of her.

Allison wanted to say more.

Still deep in thought, Allison felt Lydia give her hand a gentle squeeze. She smiled at the gesture, feeling comfort at the fact that she had someone who stood by her side even though she's done so many things that even she wouldn't forgive. But then again, Lydia just gave her a small smile. "It's okay," Allison smiled, which Lydia mirrored, but it was cut off short by a soft vibrating sound that came from her best friend's hand bag.

"What's that?" Allison asked, turning to face Lydia completely. By her side, Lydia was typing something quickly on the screen of her phone when Allison's phone beeped, signalling a message. Taking her own phone, Allison quickly typed her password and her eyes narrowed at the text sent by Ethan. " _Coyote's gone, can't find it anywhere_." She read out loud. " _Our scent's all over the place. Try not to be alone_." Allison finished, looking at Lydia with a troubled expression.

There was this feeling that grew uncomfortable in Allison's stomach that told her she wasn't safe and felt like someone was watching her every move. The look on Lydia's face told her that she wasn't the only one who had the bad feeling. "You think Scott and Isaac got the message?" Lydia asked quietly, now not paying any attention to Mr. Yukimura's discussion at all. "How about Stiles?" she asked, and had the situation been a bit more lighter, Allison would have cracked a smile and teased her about it.

Grabbing some of her stuff on her desk, Allison discreetly packed them all inside her bag. "Knowing Ethan, it's a mass message and probably everyone knows but to be safe," Allison trailed off, looking closely at the door and looked expectantly at her watch. "We should keep an eye on everyone," Allison finally settled back into her seat and waited for the day to go by with every word from Mr. Yukimura seemed to draw out for ages to come.

But eventually, like all things, came to an end and Allison was the first one to bolt out of the doors despite being seated at the last row, earning her shocked looks from the others students. Mr. Yukimura, on the other hand, just chuckled. "Be careful, Miss Argent," the teacher said coolly, making Allison remember that she had a different class next and that she wouldn't be with Lydia for an entirety of 2 hours and 10 minutes, instead spending it with Coach Finstock.

Hanging out by the door, Allison waited for Lydia. "So, here's the plan," a detailed set of scenarios played out in Allison's head. "Since Melissa had Isaac's schedule changed, we wouldn't have to worry about is _Stiles_ ," Allison said, and as if on cue, the man in question tumbled out of a classroom, papers flying all over.

Lydia sighed dramatically. "What am I going to do with that spastic and hyperactive idiot?" Allison raised a brow at her best friend, failing to hide a smile.

"But isn't he _your_ spastic and hyperactive idiot?" Allison said with a matter-of-fact voice that made Lydia hummed in consideration.

Finally nodding, Allison went on and walked Lydia to her next class in the hallway, taking their time before reaching Stiles. "Well, I suppose you're right," Lydia muttered just before Stiles went up to them, kissing his girlfriend on the cheek even though leaning down would cause some of his papers to slip out of his bag, grinning before looking around. After a few moments of not-so discreetly checking for teachers, Allison saw Stiles take out his phone and showed picture of numerous supernatural spirit-like creatures.

Lydia shook her head. "No, that's not it," Allison took a quick look at the screen of Stiles' phone. "I hardly think that an elemental is messing with us," Allison heard her best friend sigh. "I've read the Argent bestiary and I saw nothing that could link what happened to you two— _and what's still happening to Scott_ —to an elemental," Stiles looked at Lydia and had this face that probably had him thinking of how he'd missed that point.

Nodding, Stiles showed a screen-capture of Chinese characters. "This is pronounced as _e_ , _eg_ , _egg_ —hungry ghosts, that's what they are, and it says here that they feed off people's energy which could have been the reason why we were so sleep deprived the past few days," Lydia had this look that Allison knew well said no. It was kind of obvious for her though, because if it was a hungry ghost plaguing them, then she and Stiles would still be haunted. "What? Why?"

Grabbing Stiles' phone, Lydia pinched her fingers together so that she could zoom in on the picture. "Offering, Stiles, _offering_! You and Allison, due to some supernatural trauma, have been obviously too busy to go to a Chinese temple— _or any temple, for that matter_ —to offer some food to satisfy your ancestors' needs!" Lydia breathed, finished her explaining, only to earn an enlightened look on Stiles' face.

Passing by a familiar face, Allison stopped walking. "Well, this is me," she pointed to a classroom door. Lydia waved but before she could leave, Allison walked up to her. "Hey, are you free later?" she asked Lydia, who had this reluctant expression on her face.

"I don't know, Allison. Stiles is actually going to try and sneak off to speak with Scott and I'm helping him escape Isaac," Allison nodded, smiling to avoid Lydia seeing her disappointment when Stiles shook his head.

Turning to face Lydia, Stiles kept nodding as if he was agreeing to what he was thinking of. "I think you should go," Allison wanted to protest, tell them that it was fine and that she was only going to visit her mother's grave, put some flowers and whatnot but Stiles gave this charming smile to Lydia who hesitantly agreed.

"Fine," Lydia breathed out before Stiles waved, kissing Lydia on the lips this time, smiling silly.

"Got to go charm up my boy Scotty for a date," Allison raised her brow at Stiles who then sighed. "Well, to be the third wheel, actually, because he's showing Kira around the picnic grounds at the preserve," at first, Allison had this thought of the coyote when she remembered that the picnic grounds happened to be at the opposite end of the preserve and was near the newly built, high-end residential area.

A part of Allison's heart ached weakly at the mention of a date but then realized that it was good. Scott taking Kira out on a date—touring or showing her around, no matter how Stiles called it, Allison knew that it was a date—was a good thing because that meant he was moving on, one step closer to becoming better.

 _Slowly_ , Allison repeated the word to herself, _it'll all go slowly_.

And it all did, including her day. It was like she spent an entire year inside Coach's classroom as he ranted about how corrupt the medical system was, how health care is utter trash, all the while having each and every single one of the students prepare for a quiz that's scheduled for the next month's end. "It will be intensely and overwhelmingly difficult," the Coach scoffed at that point, looking at Greenberg pointedly. "I'm not even sure _I_ could pass it. So study, cupcakes!"

The rest of that day, no matter how painstakingly slow, was fairly uneventful and Allison managed to get Lydia and stop by the cemetery.

" _So_ ," Lydia drew out the word, raising a brow at her as they walked down the cobblestone path towards her mother's grave. "You're telling me that you've decided to move on because you're Mom inspired you to?" Lydia was skeptical of her claim, to say the least. "Are you sure you're not being haunted by the whole Nemeton thing, again? Because all we know is that deities _can_ visit you, we never did consider having of demons with the ability to change form to look like another psychotic family member?"

Allison ignored her best friend and walked towards her mother's grave, cleaning out some dried wax from melted candles and clearing it of the overgrown grass and the leaves that stuck to the marble of her headstone. As Allison was cleaning her Mom's grave, her eyes inevitably drifted to her Aunt Kate's grave and noticed the red spray paint that spelled out the word " _murderer_ " in bold and somewhat shaky letters that Allison knew would have been hard to clear out.

After the final fight that ended her Aunt Kate's life and temporarily disabled Peter, Derek revealed a recorded confession from Kate that she was the one who masterminded the arson that killed the most of the Hale family in a fire that was, for a long period of time, considered to be an accident.

Allison knew that somehow, her aunt deserved it, the public scrutiny because what she did was unspeakable. There were children there, _human_ children and they died because her aunt couldn't accept the truth that werewolves can co-exist with humans peacefully. Allison wanted so badly to sympathize with the others, to understand their grief but she was also angry because under that mind set, that arrogance that brought her aunt her downfall was the same Aunt Kate who always sided with her against her Dad.

The same Aunt Kate who told her how to be girl and strong at the same time, the same Aunt Kate who she considered to be her sister for the longest of time. In the end, while Allison was glad that the world lost a psychotic murderer who showed not a single sign of remorse or regret or fear of the consequences, Allison lost her aunt who she considered to be her only friend and only ally—

"Oh, no," Allison muttered, figuring it all out. Hurriedly grabbing her phone, Allison dialed Scott and Stiles' phone number, alarming Lydia who was standing beside her, asking question at a record speed and yet she ignored her. "Pick up, pick up!" she chanted it like a mantra, that if she kept saying it, they'll miraculously pick up. But it eventually went to Scott's voicemail. After the long beep, Allison hurriedly spoke through the phone.

"Allison, what's happening to you? What happened?" Allison ignored her best friend as she stared at the sight before her.

For the first time, Allison felt like she saw like how an animal does, like how Scott and Isaac would see using their other eyes. The red spray paint was drawn out messily across the lot and even had a trail leading off into the woods near the cemetery. "The coyote, it's after us. We messed up the grave, our scents? It's like spray paint and how we trampled the place up? It's like we spelled out murderer!" breathing in deep, Allison began to run towards her car, Lydia hot on her trail after hearing what was happening.

* * *

 _ **Thanks and shout-out to KristyB26 and to nessieandbella for being awesome readers. Also, this story is dedicated to another awesome fanfiction author, TheFictionalMe, whose Teen Wolf fanfiction, Penance, is completely and totally amazing! Leaves you gripping the edge of your seat and wanting more, trust me, it takes your breath away like asthma.**_

 ** _Anyways, back to the story. This chapter is trying to about trying to solidify a purely platonic relationship between Scott and Allison because she thinks its necessary to help him heal and recover. The ringing factor that made Teen Wolf's Season 3B stand out to me, that was not Allison's death, was that they (Scott and Allison) tried to achieve a purely platonic friendship._**

 ** _But I love Scallison so, of course, nothing is written in stone. Yet._**

 _ **So, what do you think of this chapter? I hope that it builds up to something, that it serves as a great starting point for any real trouble that's going to challenge our pack. I hope you guys liked this one, which is the longest chapter yet for the series. Sorry if it's a bit messy here and there, I don't have a beta and I finished this so late at night.**_

 _ **So, yeah. Thanks a lot!**_


	8. CHAPTER VII - SCOTT

**SUCCUMB**

 **CHAPTER VII - SCOTT**

* * *

Although the lights in the kitchen were dim, it still made Scott's eyes sore and made him even more sleepier. So, Scott rubbed the sleepiness off of his eyes as he drank his morning coffee while Isaac kept an eye on him.

After a few sips, Scott narrowed his eyes at Isaac, shaking his head as if something was wrong. "You know, you don't have to keep an eye on me 24/7. I may not be okay right now, but I will be. I'm going to be fine, Isaac." His protests were ignored and Scott just groaned, wishing that he never lost Kira's number in the woods in the first place.

Isaac threw him a sharp and exasperated look. "Scott, you don't have an anchor, you couldn't draw control from anger, and the _one_ thing that kept you in check is lost somewhere in the woods and as much as I want to just kidnap the girl you like just so you won't lose control and shift in broad daylight," Scott shook his head, holding his hand up, not wanting to hear the same sermon Isaac kept repeating to him, over and over again.

Breathing in deep, Scott tried to remember what happened last night. He didn't seem to recall anything, it's like any memory he had of what they did suddenly vanished from his mind. "Listen, I don't know about what happened but maybe it was because I was around _her_ ," Allison would, so it seem, remain a touchy subject for a long time.

Isaac's expression changed a bit, softened up and showed guilt and Scott immediately regret saying her name. Somehow, even though he repeatedly made it known that he was okay with him and Allison, Isaac would always shy away from the topic and change it altogether. For the first week after the Nemeton thing, with him dying and whatnot, Scott tried his best to encourage Isaac to go after Allison, telling him that he was over her and that he was okay if she moved on.

But it was there, the scent and chemo-signal that said everything. Isaac couldn't look at Allison the same way, not anymore. So, he didn't push him further. He just left the whole topic behind.

Isaac nodded. "Maybe," but something told Scott that his beta wasn't entirely convinced, that there was a bigger and more complex reason as to why he suddenly had amnesia or why he lost control in the preserve last night. "But I'm not taking any chances with you, not when you're a loose cannon," Scott heard Isaac mutter under his breath, which made him wonder what happened last night that got him so riled up.

Grunting, Scott took a big gulp of his coffee and placed the empty mug inside the sink and grabbed his bag and helmet. "Fine, but don't blame me when you've wasted your entire day watching nothing happen," Scott didn't mean to snap, but he did. He wanted to apologize, but he's sure that Isaac could smell the regret and resign in the air, the chemo-signal that hung around him. But mostly, Scott couldn't find the words to excuse himself.

Sighing, Scott just went out of the kitchen and headed straight for the driveway. Walking across the front lawn, Scott bent down in front of his motorcycle and his fingers searched for his keys behind the hub of the front wheel when he heard a familiar clinking of metal. Turning around, Isaac was holding in his fingers something that glinted in the sunlight. "Looking for these?" he asked innocently as if he just found them on the ground.

Standing up, Scott sighed and raised his hands up in the air as a sign of defeat and surrender. "Fine, you win. I'm sorry. Can I have my keys now?" Isaac shook his head, eyeing the keys to his motorcycle as if it was special or something.

Isaac looked like he was deep in thought, like he was considering his options. " _Nah_ , I think I'll stick with four wheels," Scott raised a brow and when he looked beyond the drive way, he saw his Mom's car. "Melissa took the bus today. Because unlike you, she knew that you're not fine enough to ride your bike and while I did ride Aiden's bike inside school, I don't know shit about it." Walking pass by him, Isaac patted the hood of the black Toyota hatchback. "So yeah, we're taking the _car_."

Scott heard the finality in Isaac's voice and knew well if he were to argue, he'd get detention for being a few hours late. "Fine," Scott grumbled, heading straight for the passenger seat. Once inside, Scott strapped on the seat belt and continued to glare sharply at his beta who was grinning cheekily.

Pressing his foot on the gas pedal, the car surged forward before making a sharp turn. Soon, they were on the streets and Scott just focused on trying to regain his memories from last night. Opening the window, Scott ignored Isaac's protests. Eventually, his beta just turned off the AC and Scott stared at the newly built residential area, picking up a familiar scent that smelled quite. . .papery?

It reminded him of last night, like every time he would inhale, he'd see bits and pieces of walking through the woods. Scott then shook his head at the thought. Running, he saw it clear and remembered how cold it was that night. _I was running_ , Scott remembered how his clothes clung to his skin and how he lost a shoe when he went cliff jumping, _and swimming, apparently_.

But it made no sense to Scott, the sudden influx of memories making his head hurt, so he closed the window, eventually letting the scent disappear and he forgot all about it when, in the distance, a cream colored building appeared. A groan would have escaped Scott's lips when he saw a familiar figure getting out of a car. "Kira," he looked at the window and breathed out as she turned to look around the parking lot, following her father, Mr. Yukimura, into the building.

Isaac pulled into a spot and raised a brow at Scott's sudden rejuvenation. "Welcome back to life," Isaac said sarcastically, raising a brow at him before he saw Kira pass through some people. "Ah, I see. Get her, lover boy," Scott ignored his beta and stepped out of the car, smelling that familiar scent that made him remember bits and pieces of last night, giving one hell of a headache as the events played out in his mind.

But Scott walked through the pain, ignoring the sharp pain that made him wince and caught up to Kira. Placing a hand over her shoulder, Kira turned around, her expression showing that she was shocked at first, surprised, but soon changed into something more light. Turning around to face him fully, Kira smiled at him. "Want to walk to class? Kind of owe you that," Scott smiled widely, giving Mr. Yukimura a small wave as he passed by him with his daughter.

Though Kira agreed to walk with him, she kept a bit space between them and embraced her books, holding them close to her chest. "You don't really owe me anything," she said with a shrug, like it was a fact. "And, uhm, shouldn't you be with your friends?" Scott's shoulders slumped, his brows furrowing in confusion when he heard her tone and what she had actually said.

Scott stopped walking and turned to face Kira. "You don't want me around?" he asked softly and suddenly felt unwelcome, but Kira shook her head furiously. Smiling, even, to convince him otherwise.

"No, it's just that, why would you want to be with the new girl when you've got amazing friends?" they continued walking, Scott keeping an eye on her and found himself smiling.

Scott remembered his friends and immediately, memories of their adventures and escapades replayed themselves in his mind. "Yeah, I've got great and awesome friends, but you should, too," Kira's eyes widened for a second before she smiled at him. Scott had this warm feeling rush over him that gave him this energy to be on his toes. It's like, when he's with her, he doesn't feel the side-effects of dying and re-powering the Nemeton.

Then, when they took a turn, Scott noticed that Kira distanced herself from him. Looking around, Scott's eyes landed on a group of girls from the volleyball varsity team. They were obviously gossiping about him and Kira. Scott tilted his head a bit to try and hear what it was they were talking about but then a sharp pain rang in his ear and found out that he couldn't. He shook his head lightly, trying again but failed again, the pain coming back.

But Scott fought off the wince coming up to his face when Kira became silent, almost a few steps ahead of him. "What's wrong?" he asked her, facing her completely as he now stood in front of her.

"Those girls," Scott looked over his shoulder and saw the same girls from the volleyball team looking back at them, waving at him. "They're talking about us." Kira whispered and bent her head low as if she shouldn't be seen. "Why are you spending time with me?" she asked, out of the blue.

The question caught Scott by surprise. "I told you," he said softly, repeating what he said earlier. "I want to be friends with you," a small smile crept up on his face but Kira shook her head as if it didn't matter, that what he had said didn't make sense to her.

They continued walking towards the staircase where there weren't much people. "When I went to class, after lunch with you and your friends, I heard some stuff about you," Kira said, taking her time to slowly make her way up the flight of stairs.

"What? That I was a lanky, asthmatic kid who never made first line before?" Scott joked, and Kira did laugh but it died down, she had a serious expression.

"That you and the girl were together. Allison, she was your girlfriend, right?" Scott nodded, figuring that he shouldn't be surprised considering that when he began dating Allison, he and Stiles technically hunt out with the popular kids of Beacon Hills High School, which consisted mainly consisted of Jackson, Lydia, and Danny. "I've heard them say that you guys were pretty serious and that there was this gunman here and it said that you got involved because you wanted to protect her." There was a small and humorless laugh from her. "They said that you two were pretty serious, that Allison was your epic love."

Scott couldn't deny Allison being his epic love. She's the first girl he's ever loved and Scott knew to himself that Allison would continue to have a part of his heart for a very long time.

Kira walked towards the half-landing, her lips pursed into a thin line. "That kind of love never dies," she muttered, like it was no big deal but Scott heard an underlying tone to it, a particular jump in her heart beat that told him it was a lie. So, he didn't move.

"But it can change," Scott said with a matter-of-fact voice, smiling at her. "I love Allison. _Love_ , not past tense, but some things happened— _a lot of things happened_ —and I guess that we couldn't pick up from where we were supposed to be and we couldn't make it right, so we broke up because if we had stayed together, then we would have both broken ourselves and driven each other away. But now, we've moved on." Scott said, feeling his eyebrow twitch ever so slightly, though he didn't know why.

Kira had this confused expression on her face. "So, what are you saying?" she asked, genuinely lost, confused.

Scott just smiled at her, pointing towards the flight of stairs that leads to the second floor. "That you don't have to worry about being cross with anybody, or being a rebound or something because you won't be," Scott flashed a charming smile at Kira's direction. "You're schedule for first period is Chemistry, right?" Scott saw her reluctantly nod, as if she didn't know if she was supposed to say that to him. "Let me walk you there."

Finally, a smile appeared on Kira's face and Scott felt his chest grow incredibly lighter, a feeling that he's never quite had before. "Am I going to regret this?" she asked teasingly, her finger pointed at some of the people gossiping in the hallway.

Scott found himself remembering a particular conversation with Allison. "Probably," he echoed his younger self back then, giving a half-smile as he continued to walk her towards her class when he noticed a strap hanging by Allison's neck. "What's that?" Scott asked, pointing to the black and red lace that spelled out the brand Canon.

Kira smiled. "Oh, this one?" carrying her books with one hand, Kira lifted a small model of a Canon camera. At first, Scott narrowed his eyes at the small silver device because he was reminded of another photographer who also happened to be, inconveniently, the Kanima master who controlled his friend(?) and lacrosse team co-captain, Jackson Whittemore. "I like to think that I can take artistic shots," Kira said and Scott pointed at the camera.

Scott's hand inched forward in the air, still pointing towards the small camera. "Can I take a look?" Kira nodded, her mood changing entirely, handing her small but still impressive camera to him. It wasn't at all like Matt's DSLR camera, and when Scott booted it up and looked at the stored shots, he could tell that Kira wasn't an obsessive stalker at all. " _Woah_ , these are good!" Scott browsed through the photos, stopping at a shot of a lightning bolt, amazed at the artistic shots that was displayed in the gallery.

Kira blushed, smiling before looking down. "Thanks."

Scott turned he camera to a side and looked at the photograph of the Grand Canyon Kira took at another angle. "So, I've got to ask," Scott started, going to another photograph, this time of the sea, an island that almost looked like it was made through photoshop. "You only do nature photography?" Kira shrugged her shoulder, pointing at a detail of the island that proved that the picture wasn't tampered with in anyway.

Going to another photograph, Scott noticed that most of her shots were of forests and jungles. "Well, now that you've pointed it out, now that _I've_ noticed it, I guess, yeah," Scott smiled at the answer as he finally reached the end of the gallery, returning back to the first photo he's seen. "I mean, how could you not want to preserve them in your memories? Some of these places aren't even around today and I guess that I just want to see places, you know? Places that'll leave an impression." Scott found himself nodding, the image of a small patch of nature that seemed untouched by humanity left a burning hole in his mind.

But then, Scott remembered Stiles, his best friend who liked taking pictures of random people in their school. "Why don't you like to take pictures of people?" Kira had a number of amazing photos, a huge gallery, but Scott didn't find a photograph of a single person, not even her Dad or her Mom, or even herself. "I mean, not a single selfie or a stolen shot of someone," Scott had to admit, Stiles had a funny collection of people in mid-sneeze.

Kira shrugged when Scott handed her back the camera. "Well, selfies are overrated, you know," Scott smiled at that, agreeing wholehearted. "I mean, it's okay and all but. . ." Kira trailed off, trying to find the right word to explain what she was feeling or something when someone took a selfie in front of them. Scott realized it then.

"But when it's compared to traditional photography, there's no question," Kira grinned widely, nodding her head at his comment.

" _Exactly_ ," she said, stopping in front of a door. At first, Scott wanted to ask why she had stopped when he looked at his inside the classroom and saw beakers and a tripod. Scott didn't notice that they had already reached the classroom. "I guess this is me," she pointed at the classroom, which had a few students inside already.

Scott nodded slowly, about to walk away and say goodbye when he stopped, taking a step closer towards Kira. "Hey, have you heard of Beacon Hills Preserve?" Kira shook her head and Scott smiled wider at her response. "Well, while a few parts of it's kind of a bit messy, I can show you some awesome sights there later since it's a half-day at school," Scott pointed at the camera and he saw Kira grow excited at the thought.

Although she had this excited look on her face, Kira paused for a while. "Wait, can I bring someone?" the first person who came into Scott's mind was Mr. Yukimura, because it was, after all, a half-day. So, he nodded. "Thanks!"

"So, see you later?" Scott asked hesitantly when Kira nodded, a smile still on her face.

"Definitely." Kira smiled before heading inside the classroom. Scott began walking down the hall, passing by some of the lockers, heading for his classroom when he remembered the scent he picked up earlier on the way to school. Sniffing the air around him discreetly, Scott realized that the source was near him but he couldn't quite exactly pin it down on one location. It was like it was jumping from one place through another.

 _The vents_ , Scott thought to himself when his head ached. _Must be circulating it_.

Eventually, when he reached his classroom, the scent subsided and Scott couldn't smell it anymore. _That or I got used to it_ , Scott thought to himself as he took a seat near Greenberg, who sent a nod at his direction, asking about tomorrow's practice for the lacrosse tournament with Worthington Prep, one of BHHS' many competitors for state championship for the game.

"Alright, last week we discussed the meaning of the phrase ' _little did he know_ ', a phrase that esteemed English literature professor, Jules Hilbert, wrote papers about and gave an entire seminar about it. The phrase ' _little did he know_ ' as in the title of a current New York Times' bestseller, Little Did He Know by Karen Eiffel." Mr. Fitz then wrote something on the board. "But for this week, we will be studying a symbol. Symbolism and what how word wolfling is used in literature."

Despite feeling lightheaded and dizzy, the word caught Scott's attention and triggered this little vision that came up in his mind. All Scott saw in the vision was darkness. Scott wasn't sure if the darkness that surrounded him happened to be a symbolism of something because, mostly, it was pitch black and he couldn't see a damned thing. But he did feel, Scott could feel his surroundings in the vision.

"In fact, by the amazing relevance of the term wolf or wolfling, an author, Gordon R. Dickson, has published a book with that as the title." Turning his head, Scott saw Greenberg as he took down notes. Trying to get his head back to reality, Scott gripped the edge of his desk but as soon as his fingers touched the desk, he recoiled. It was cold, like it was wet. Like it had rained.

 _Or took a dip in the lake_.

An eerie voice said and Scott whipped around, searching for person who said it. It sounded vaguely familiar that Scott tilted his head to a side, trying to remember who sounded like he had swallowed a sheet of sand paper. ' _Wait, he?_ ' Scott asked himself, wondering why and how he knew that the person with the eerie voice was a guy, a male.

Mr. Fitz then wrote something on the board, probably a name or something. "For most parts, how was the book received by the critics?" around him, Scott's classmates raised their hands and Mr. Fitz considered each on of them, settling for the kids in the back. "Jared, no?" Scott remembered the time the team went on the meet, how Jared had puked on the bus. Scott wrinkled his nose in disgust, remembering the scent. "How about you, James?"

The name brought memories as Scott remembered one of his earlier nightmares, the one where he'd tear Stiles to shreds. "For most parts, the book was praised for its colorful exploration into life. The critics— _er, the readers_ —loved that about the book because they appreciated how honest the book's approach was when it came to prejudice," Mr. Fitz was satisfied with the answer James gave but Scott was more focused on the student's name.

James. _Jameson_.

The name brought out unwanted memories that made his head hurt. In the pain, Scott gripped the edge of his desk even though it felt weird. Laying his head down on the his book, the pain intensifying as the moment seconds passed by. "Hey, man, you okay?" Greenberg, from his side, asked, leaning over from the side and hovered over him, Mr. Fitz's drawling voice came to a stop and approached him.

And after that, after seeing Mr. Fitz trying to get through the seats in front of him, Scott saw the woods, painstakingly familiar from when he was bitten that night he and Stiles sneaked out to go and try to find the body in the woods. But it was different, there was too much noise and he couldn't could feel the wind against his face but he couldn't feel his legs as he ran through the forest, chasing something gray and silver in the forest at night.

Scott couldn't move his body despite knowing he was running. Scott's body didn't protest as it took another step or another jump or having a branch cut him, but he felt the pain. It was like his mind's connection to his body was severed. It was like only his mind could feel the pain and only his body could control itself.

"Mr. McCall, do you need to be sent to the nurse's office?" Mr. Fitz asked, bending down to his knees to try and see him better.

Scott wanted to tell him to move away, for everyone to get away from him because it's always at this point where he loses control. Always at that point when he just wakes up in the dark with his fingers caked in blood. Scott wanted to tell them to get far away from him but he found out that his voice failed him because all that escaped from his lips was a groan and a strangled but sharp inhale of air. In front of him, Mr. Fitz reeked of concern and fear, it was like he was only one second away from sending a student to the nurse when Isaac came tumbling in from the doors.

 _Lock. Lock. Lock. Lock._

The eerie voice repeated itself in his mind and Scott wanted to yell because the pain growing more intense when Isaac made him sit up but he couldn't. Scott's vision blurred and Isaac's face became this smudged figure. "Inhaler!" there was a ruckus that made all sorts of noise and Scott wanted to just sleep, the pain making him dizzy and disoriented than when he tried to stand up, he would have fallen to the ground if it weren't for Isaac catching him.

Then, everyone was gone and missing. The door was closed and there was water everywhere and it was rising. "Isaac!" Scott breathed out, suddenly regaining his voice. His head hung low to a side and his eyes lids felt heavy as his he grew more dizzy as the seconds passed. "Isaac!" Scott yelled before he felt something go 'whoosh' behind him. Turning around, Scott found nothing but then something sounded in the distance. "Who are you?" Scott yelled, demanding to know who was haunting him.

There was no answer. Only silence and the sound his legs made as he walked through the now knee-deep water.

"Jameson!" Scott yelled, instantly regretting his decision because the sound echoed and his eardrums pounded in protest. His hands flew to his ears, the pain in his head blocking out every sense he should have when he felt someone was in front of him.

Looking up, Scott saw the same faded, olive green military jacket and the bandaged face that had stains of blood seeping through the white gauze. " _Wolfling, tell me what I need_." Jameson circled around him, making no sound as if there wasn't around them. " _It is fear and it will take what you hold dear. Many will die when it's here. What is it_?" Scott didn't know the answer because he couldn't think properly, his words leaving him as his vision continued to blur.

"I don't know."

Scott heard his own voice and it sounded pathetic. How resigned it was, how defeated he was. Scott wanted that to change. He's the apex predator and he shouldn't be weak, not when his friends need him to be strong.

" _What do I need, wolfling_?" Jameson repeated, leaning dangerously close towards him, the metallic scent of blood making Scott weak. " _It is fear and it will take what you hold dear. Many will die when I am here. What do I need_?" Scott didn't answer, the pain in his head was too much and all he could actually see was patches of light here and there but other than that, there was nothing but darkness.

Scott tried to think of the answer but he couldn't, not when he had too much going on with him. "I don't know," Scott repeated weakly before Jameson slammed his fist into his stomach, causing pain to erupt, making him black out when the sound of books went crashing to the floor.

Scott sat up straight and looked around him, surprised that the water filling up the room is gone. In front if him was Mr. Fitz, his English teacher who had been shaking him awake. The whole classroom was empty. Scott sighed in relief. "It was just a dream," he muttered to himself as his teacher gave him a concerned look.

"Mr. McCall, maybe you should go and visit the nurse's office in your spare time?" Mr. Fitz suggested, bending low to get some of the books Scott knocked out from his desk when he suddenly woke up from his dream. Shaking his head and focusing on the chair in front of him, Scott grabbed his bag and placed his books and his other stuff. Everything was all set, but Scott still had this headache that's literally splitting his mind in half, so when he tried to walk, he almost fell down. "Maybe you should take the next day off, Scott. You don't look so well."

Scott wanted to tell his teacher that he was okay but he couldn't find the words to say it. His head was pounding and his forehead was covered with bullets of sweat. "Yes sir," was all Scott could muster before Mr. Fitz sent him on his way.

Walking towards his second class, the noise the students gave off was too loud and hurt his ears. Wincing while walking, Scott eventually picked up a particular voice. " _Hey, Stiles, right?_ " it was Kira, closing her locker shut. Scott could tell that she had a smile on her face and a bundle of papers in her hand.

" _Yeah_ ," Stiles answered. " _Wait, is this for me?_ " Scott heard his best friend ask, taking something from Kira's hands. He could hear Stiles' finger grip the bundle of paper that smelled of a particular scent. Kind of like the scent the paper that had Kira's number written on it. Scott breathed in deep, inhaling the scent again, confirming that Kira probably used some special scented paper. " _This is about Bardo!_ " Scott heard Stiles flip of the pages of the bundle of bond paper. " _Where'd you get all of this? Half of this can't even be found on Wikipedia!_ " Scott could hear the amazement in his best friend's voice.

The subtle noises in the background made out perfectly for Scott, hearing Adidas sneakers squeak against the floor, he knew that Kira shifted her footing and probably went near to Stiles. " _My family and I went on a trip to India once and I kind of got hooked on all that spiritual stuff, all of the Indian mythology_ ," Kira hair made a silent whoosh sound and Scott knew that she was making it seem like it wasn't that of a big deal but he could smell the excitement from Stiles, his chemo-signals spelling out like that was the missing puzzle piece.

There was more flipping of pages, Scott could tell. " _Woah, this is a cool picture! Is this a statue of Vishnu?_ " Stiles asked and Scott could imagine his best friend bringing the picture closer to his face, narrowing his eyes.

" _Yeah, I took the picture of the statue when we visited a temple_ ," Scott smelled a different chemo-signal that told him of either shock or disbelief from Stiles. Scott shrugged before he continued to walk to his next class, still listening to Kira and Stiles' conversation.

" _You're a photographer? Nice! I take photos of people, actually,_ " Then, when Scott took a turn to go to his next class, Elective Geometry with Mrs. Dodds, he heard Stiles' phone ding, a text message most probably. He could smell the shift in his best friend's chemo-signals. " _Hey, listen, thanks for this. Really helps a lot, but I have got to go to class now_." Stiles hummed and Scott knew that his best friend realized something, or remembered a small detail. " _I actually have it with Scott!_ "

Scott could hear Stiles' sneakers sound on the floor when he was stopped. " _Hey, Scott and I are actually going to the preserve, take some pictures. Do you want to come?_ " Scott's eyes widened as he realized that Kira had invited Stiles. A part of him wanted to turn away and stop listening, he didn't want to hear Stiles rejecting Kira's offer just because he was being avoided.

" _Is it okay with you guys? As in you and Scott?_ " Scott was kind of shocked to hear that question.

" _Well, only if you want to come. And I already asked Scott if I could bring someone,_ " Scott smelled a particular chemo-signal from Stiles that he hasn't caught in a long time. Scott thought long and hard before deciding that the last time he had caught that chemo-signal from Stiles was when they were in a cross-country meet for lacrosse. It was just after a fight with Deucalion and the Alpha pack. He wasn't healing and Stiles was working with Lydia and Allison to get him off the bus.

Of course, while Coach made it almost impossible to leave the bus, Stiles managed to have Jared puke. Scott appreciated the thought, how Stiles saved him with quick thinking but it still had hurt his nose.

" _Well, if that's the case, has Scott told you about this amazing view near the picnic grounds?_ " Scott's eyed widened at the reply, half-expecting Stiles to refuse because, after all, his best friend was avoiding him for the past few weeks now. The heavy feeling that hung in his chest grew lighter and a smile found its way to his lips.

So, when Stiles had to leave Kira because he had to get to class, Scott was reminded of the fact that he had to get there, too. Running off in another direction to get his books from his locker, Scott remembered that he had it with Isaac, too. Then, a thought came to him and frowned. Scott remembered his Mom having a conversation with Isaac, how they'd arranged for him to have all classes with his beta but he wasn't there in English.

Running around the school's halls, Scott tried to catch Isaac's scent but ended up wasting most of his free time and had to go to his next class. Fishing his phone out, Scott tried to call his beta but it just kept ringing. In the end, Scott just walked to Economy and sat next to Stiles as Coach repeatedly asked Greenberg. "Hey, man," Stiles muttered to him, handing a small rectangular device. It was a phone and on the screen was a really funny picture of Coach.

For Scott, everything was back to normal. He and Stiles are talking about Friday nights and Mortal Kombat, or probably re-watching the Matrix trilogy, all the while with the occasional teasing that he has a date with Kira. Scott found himself in a great mood all throughout the day and while he did get some close calls— _Scott couldn't drive Kira to the preserve because Isaac was still missing_ —but everything worked out in the end.

And that's what scares Scott the most.

So, as Scott watched as Kira tried to capture the stream in a new angle, he couldn't help but feel paranoid. He didn't know why, but his nightmare kept on badgering in his mind. It was like, for Scott, the nightmare refused to let itself fade away. "Hey, Stiles," Scott went to the spot where his best friend was, munching on a hotdog he brought over. He could smell it in his best friend, how happy he was now. Something must have happened to him.

"Yeah, buddy?" Scott sniffed the air around Stiles and picked on something paper-y. Reminded him of the note with Kira's number that he lost in the woods yesterday.

"I got a question for you. More like a riddle, actually." Stiles nodded, chewing on his mid-day snack.

"Let me have it, then."

Scott turned his head to a side first, thinking that he heard some bushes rustle. "It is fear and it will take what you hold dear. Many will die when it's here. What is it?" Stiles had this deep look on his face, reminding Scott of the time they were researching for a cure for lycantrophy.

"I don't know. What do you need it fo—" Scott held his hand up, his brows furrowing in confusion. His actions effectively shut Stiles up. Scott could smell the heightened fear in Stiles, the chemo-signal that changed so suddenly from relaxed and happy, to being curious, and finally to being scared. "It's nothing, probably just a little animal," Scott dismissed the weird heartbeat he's heard when he saw the worried look on Stiles face when suddenly, Scott heard it.

Kira's pulse jumped, becoming abnormally fast.

Breathing in the air, it smelled of adrenaline and sweat. Scott could smell her fear and he knew that the coyote could sense it, too. "Kira," he breathed out before running into the forest, trying to focus on her heartbeat despite the noise that came up. It sounds like a phone, Scott thought to himself as he slid down a slope, trying to get to the stream as fast as he could when a particular quote— _riddle, Scott corrected himself_ —replayed itself over and over in his mind.

Despite the situation, Scott considered himself to be fairly in control until he smelled something metallic and heard a sharp intake of breath. Kira had gasped from hurt or pain. It was only then when Scott's head began to hurt, even more so painful than when he had this headache from earlier at school during English with Mr. Fitz and Greenberg.

Scott then heard multiple heartbeats, ranging from one that reeked of Adderall, and one that smelled of paper and scents, while the last one had this dirt and forest scent. Flashing his other eyes, Scott followed the sound of the stream and soon enough, he found himself facing the coyote.

Breathing in deep, Scott realized that the coyote was a female and her heartbeat sounded familiar, like he's heard before. From somewhere. "Get away from her," Scott said, growling through gritted teeth, earning himself a snarl from the coyote. Kira's back was pressed against a tree, her arm was bleeding profusely but it was nothing too serious.

It would have been okay. Scott would have ran to Kira, say multiple apologies, but the coyote never backed down. Instead, the coyote taunted him and soon took off. Scott wanted to let it go, to just tend to Kira and let Stiles catch up but it was like he couldn't because he felt this anger rise in him so he ran after he coyote.

When he was near enough, Scott rammed it to the ground, hearing his bones snap in three different places, but that didn't stop him from reaching out for the coyote. But then, she bit him and everything after that was like a blur to him. The few things he remembered was his bleeding hand and Mr. Yukimura aiding his daughter, leading her to the picnic grounds before sending him a small nod. Like a sign of thanks when he heard a small groan.

His head still hurting badly, Scott followed the source of the noise with only one thought in his mind. "Stiles," Scott muttered to himself when he saw his best friend near the stream. He tried catching up to him and the coyote and ended up being the victim in the cross hair of the fight. "No," Scott remembered the last time he saw his best friend like this. It was when Gerard had kidnapped him and tortured him.

Stiles had a few claw marks running deep through his arm. Scott felt guilty, having brought him to the mess. In Stiles' hand was a cellphone with Allison's number on the screen. "She tried to warn us," Stiles explained weakly, shocking Scott. Immediately, he went to Stiles' side and took his hand, taking away the pain his best friend felt. "It's okay," Stiles said, getting drowsy and sleepy whereas Scott vision began to blur and darken as he took the pain away.

"You're going to be fine," Scott said, his throat constricting painfully when he sniffed the air and decided that Stiles was going to be alright. "I'm going to get some help. I'll come back for you." Scott promised, losing his balance as he walked down a familiar trail, leading to the picnic grounds where Mr. Yukimura was tending to Kira's wound. "Stiles," Scott said weakly, holding on to a tree for support as other people began to gather around. "Needs help, call the Sheriff," was all he could say before he went back to the trail to get to Stiles.

But Scott felt something different. "It's so painful," Scott muttered to himself before he fell to a side, rolling down the slope, feeling his chest burn. "Pain. Chaos. Pain," Scott muttered before his vision darkened and an eerie voice filled his ears as a shadow stood in front of him, taking the light away.

" _It is fear and it will take what you hold dear. Many will die when I am here_." Jameson repeated the riddle before smiling maniacally at him. " _Very good wolfling. Thank you for giving me pain and chaos_."

That was the last Scott saw of light before he was plunged into the stream and back into the world of shadows and darkness.

* * *

 _ **Not the best chapter, I have to say.**_

 _ **So, where'd you think Isaac went off to. Also, what do you think happened to Stiles, is he going to be alright after being attacked by our rabid coyote soon to be Malia. And finally, what do you think will happen to Scott? Let me know and leave your thoughts in the review section!**_


	9. CHAPTER VIII - STILES

**SUCCUMB**

 **CHAPTER VIII - STILES**

* * *

The aside from the inaudible words he's been hearing, first thing Stiles noticed was the white ceiling and the bright LED light bulbs.

Stiles blinked rapidly and something beside him kept beeping annoyingly. "Huh?" he said almost unintelligibly, his throat feeling raspy as his breathing began to stabilize. " _What_ —what happened? Where am I?" Stiles' head hurt, his chest ached, and his body was sore in all places, in general, and seeing the unfamiliar white room he was being held in didn't help ease his thoughts.

Slowly, Stiles' blurry vision eventually cleared out and soon, he saw outside the clear window and saw his father and his girlfriend. He wondered, at first, if the voices he was hearing earlier belonged to them before dismissing the thought when he turned his head to a side, seeing Melissa checking a monitor in front of her. "Woah, calm down, Stiles," she said, chuckling a but before giving the familiar smile that eased his thoughts drastically.

Trying to sit up, Stiles failed when he felt a sharp sting. Looking down, he lifted the covers and saw that he was dressed in a hospital gown and that he had bandages wrapped around his stomach and his arm was heavily covered with gauze. "We were in the preserve. What happened?" Melissa had a clipboard in her hands and she was writing something before she turned to his side.

"You were attacked by the coyote," Melissa pointed outside the window and when Stiles leaned forward, trying to get a better view. He saw Kira, pacing around, worry written all over her face. "You were showing the new girl around the preserve when you were attacked," Stiles nodded, the events and memories coming back to him when he saw the same shirt Kira wore except that this time, it had tons of dirt splayed across it.

Only then did Stiles' eyes widened. Isaac told them about the coyote being Malia Tate, the girl who went missing. "I've got to, uh, I need to get out of her," Melissa had this troubled expression on her face before she tried to calm him down, gently easing him back to the bed. "No, you don't understand, the girl, Malia— _the coyote_ —Scott was battling her. I need to, I have to get back to the preserve, see if she's okay," Melissa slowly nodded at him before the door to his room opened, all of a sudden, his Dad and Lydia entering the room, obviously relieved.

Going to his side, Lydia took sat on a chair beside his bed and took his hand into hers. "It's okay. Scott asked some of the campers to call for your father," Stiles' eyes wandered to his Dad, seeing the the stains on his uniform and the dried blood that usually wasn't there. "We found her, Stiles," Lydia laughed, relieved. "Scott. . .he found a way to make Malia shift back to being a human," Stiles nodded at her, before someone entered his room.

It was Allison, with a worried expression on her face that melted into relief.

Stiles raised a curious eyebrow at his friend when Lydia gave his hand a gentle squeeze. "She figured it out when we were visiting her Mom in the cemetery, figured it out that we may have trashed this sort of _grave_ for her mother and sister. She was so worried that you wouldn't get it in time," Stiles remembered it a whole lot clearly now. He remembered Scott running off, hearing Kira's name before his phone rang with a text from Allison.

When he received the phone call, Stiles realized it as well. He tried to run after Scott, warn him about what he knew about the coyote, about it being Malia when he heard rustling behind a bush. Stiles remembered calling out for Kira because she was injured and she was probably so freaked out about everything but it wasn't her. It was the coyote, instead, snarling at him.

Stiles held his hand in front of him, trying to appease Malia, the coyote who probably was unaware that she was about to murder her classmate back then in the 2nd grade back in elementary school. But his efforts were fruitless because he was attacked anyway. The coyote— _Malia_ —went for his bag and had clawed him in the stomach in the process. Stiles then groaned in realization: his bag, his only _decent_ bag was torn up and everything he had in there was probably lost in the woods.

"Why did it go for my bag?" Stiles muttered all of a sudden, wondering why did it go for his bag.

Lydia dropped his hand. " _Yeah_ ," she said, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "Why didn't it go for the _kill_?" Allison, who was beside his father, silently hid a laugh. But there was something to her, like something was off with his girlfriend's best friend and he couldn't quite point it out. "Isn't it a good thing that Malia opted to go and tear your bag apart instead of your insides?" it was a grim and gory vision, but Lydia had a point.

But still, Stiles had trouble trying to connect the dots as to why. "Yeah, and it is. I love living, but it's just too strange to have Malia tear out my bag when she could have easily gone for me," Stiles thought long and hard, his eyebrows furrowing.

"You didn't have your gym clothes inside it, did you?" his father joked and Melissa cracked a smile, but the tension around them weighed heavy again. Stiles didn't let the worried expression on Scott's Mom escape his thoughts.

"What?" Stiles asked, seeing everyone's solemn faces. "I don't cancer or anything, don't I?" Stiles joked around, trying to lighten the atmosphere like his father did but no one smiled. For a moment, he considered actually having cancer when he remembered that he and his Dad went for yearly check-ups at the hospital, making sure that if by some twisted fate, he'd end up having whatever his Mom had, they'd get to it before it would get out of hand.

While there's no cure for frontotemporal dementia, treating it while early could help ease symptoms and delay its progression.

"No, you're fine." Lydia answered seriously. "But Scott is missing." Stiles felt like he had ice water poured all over him. It was a rude awakening and soon, a monitor beside him started beeping madly.

There was this heavy look that was on Melissa's face, an expression that reminded Stiles of the time when he found their parents inside a root cellar and told her that his son had basically died. "We're all stressing the patient out," Melissa, from Stiles' angle, brought out a bottle of pills that seemingly materialized from thin air. "We need to give him some air and some space. And _you_ ," Melissa handed him two white pills that tasted bad, "need to rest."

Lydia and Allison backed into the door frame while his father went to his side, giving him a warm and gentle smile. "I'm going to check up on you after a few hours, that okay with you?" Stiles nodded, feeling calm and dizzy after drinking the pills.

Melissa finished tweaking some of the machinery beside him and when said her goodbye and went away, Stiles spotted the tears forming in her eyes.

The door clicked closed but they were all standing close to it so Stiles heard their conversation quite easily. " _Though you've said that he's been getting better, Stiles is profoundly sleep deprived so I_ _gave him Midazolam, helps relax patients before surgery,_ " he heard Melissa's voice, sounding professional but when he concentrated, he heard a slight rift that he knew well. She was trying so hard so that the others won't notice but she's scared as hell for Scott.

A soft and strangled sob sounded and Stiles felt guilty. He was with Scott to help him get better and yet now, his best friend is missing in the woods. " _I've got deputies searching the preserve with a fine tooth comb right now. We'll find Scott_." Stiles heard his father's voice, some of the words drawing out longer than it should be. Immediately, he knew that the drug was already taking effect.

There was a soft shuffling of stuff when Stiles yawned against his will, his eyelids getting heavy. " _It's a text from Ethan_." Allison said, her voice slightly raspy. Stiles knew that she was worried about Scott. " _He found something in the woods, a piece of paper,_ " Stiles' vision blurred drastically as he fought to stay awake. He wanted to know what Ethan found. " _He said that it smelled like Stiles' bag,_ " then, everything fit into place as Stiles remembered Kira.

Kira had given Scott her number before they went into the preserve. Today, Stiles received a few papers from her. "My bag," Stiles groaned to no one in particular as his fingers felt numb. Slowly, Stiles was going in and out of conscience, but he fought sleep off because in the window, though very blurry, he saw Kira pacing around nervously. Stiles was no werewolf or werecoyote for that matter but he knew that she wouldn't so worked up about the incident.

Stiles mustered all of his remaining energy to prop himself up, taking a good look at the new girl. Kira was pacing around as her mother talked to a doctor and her father, Mr. Yukimura, was probably recalling the events to a deputy. The logical part of Stiles' soon to be asleep brain told him that maybe, like all normal people, Kira was shaken up from the coyote attack and was probably worried about either him, the one in the hospital, or Scott, the one who is missing.

Stiles wanted to accept that hypothesis, and if Scott were around, he'd tell him to drop his guard and think that maybe that was the case, too, so Stiles wanted to believe that but he had this gut feeling that told him otherwise. The look on Kira's face wasn't just worried or concerned. _No_ , Stiles thought to himself as his eyes finally closed, his breathing coming to a regular pace. _She's afraid of something but what_?

* * *

Stiles woke up in the middle of the night, his blood pounding in his ears, and his room was dark, like pitch black.

Seeing the dark space in front of him, Stiles thought if someone as there but he knew that there wasn't. There was no person or figure or supernatural entity burning a hole in his mind because a stare, but still, something wasn't right. Listening close to the door— _it was still left ajar_ —Stiles waited for a sound to come, but there was nothing and it felt wrong. The hospital, it was far too silent and the feeling that kept tugging at his stomach, churning wildly, wasn't helping ease that ominous feel.

Stiles saw the bottle of Midazolam placed on the nightstand beside his bed. A part of him wanted to take another dose and fall asleep, forget that he ever woke up in the middle of the night, not from a vividly scary nightmare— _no, those days were over for him_ —but from his heart pounding hard against his chest and his body that was covered in a thin sheet of sweat.

Pushing himself up so that he would be sitting, Stiles tried to asses the situation. It was dark and scary, obviously not the time for adventures and death-defying acts but something told him that if he didn't, he would regret it. Looking out the window, Stiles saw the full moon and remembered the things that go bump in the night and how not all of them are as friendly as the neighborhood puppies, _er_ , werewolves. Fear pooling in his stomach, Stiles' hand flew to his chest, were a vial of mountain ash would usually sit. It wasn't there.

Looking to the nightstand, Stiles saw it there, right beside his phone, which had two bars of battery left in it. "Fairly good," he muttered to himself, examining the phone and its casing. "Considering what we went through in the forest and here you are, not a single dent!" Stiles felt oddly proud of his phone before his eyes trailed towards the door. He gulped, pocketing the vial filled with mountain ash. _It's time to face the outside, and probably not-so safe, world_ , Stiles thought to himself.

Pushing himself off the bed, the first thing Stiles noticed was the cold sensation of the tiled floor when his foot hit the ground. Looking around the room, a small sigh escaped his lips when he figured out that his slippers were no where to be found and that he'd have to go ghost-hunting without any footwear. Stiles looked over his shoulder and looked at the bottle of Midazolam before he shook his head and looked at the ceiling as if to ask why me.

Shaking his negative thoughts away, walked towards the door of his room and pushed it open, seeing a deserted hall with lights flickering on and off. Breathing in deep, Stiles tried to shake the ominous feeling off despite the hospital being abandoned and looked like a perfect setting for a horror movie, the kind of film where people die before the killer is caught.

Walking towards the another set of doors, Stiles tapped on his phone and flashed its light in front of him, spotting a map of the hospital. Looking at the detailed fire escape plan, Stiles didn't really know why he felt like looking at it— _he's spent most of his childhood days in this very hospital for various reasons_ —but his eyes landed on where he was, the East wing of the hospital where the majority of the private rooms were located.

As he was about to walk away, Stiles noticed something etched into the glass that protected the fire escape plan. Flashing the light directly at the spot, he instantly regret the decision because the glare almost blinded him for a second. Taking the phone away, he leaned in closely to see what was etched and realized that it was two bands and that it was etched directly above the cafeteria located at the West wing, causing his stomach to churn and his head to turn to both of his sides, his cellphone lighting the hall as much as it could.

Stiles gulped when he saw no one around because he swore, at the moment, he was _not_ alone.

"Scott?" Stiles called out in the dark as he continued walking away from the feeling of safety from the East wing as he pushed the doors open, showing a long hall leading to the rest of the hospital. A sinking gut feeling told Stiles to turn around and forget about everything because even though a part of his mind screamed that Scott needs his help, everyone knows about his tattoo and what it meant. _Hell_ , Stiles thought to himself as he breathed in deep and crossed the hall, reached the other end, even Jared knew what it was about.

But still, without solid evidence that it was Scott who left the two bands, Stiles went on and flashed his phone's light ahead of him. The logical part of Stiles really had a point about it being most likely a trap but even so, if there was the _slightest_ chance that it was Scott asking for help, then he's willing to take the chance.

So, instead of turning around and be intimidated by the empty nurses' station, Stiles checked it out instead, seeing the time. _3:21_ , the clock read and it was way too early in the morning but his arm still shook. _There should be people around here_ , Stiles thought to himself as he noticed that some of the desktops were left on yet displayed a blank and blue screen, with a text in white, bold font in the middle that said there was no connection between the screen and the CPU.

Stepping away from the counters, Stiles continued walking towards the cafeteria when he suddenly felt cold. Rubbing his hands together, Stiles closed his eyes shut and breathed deep, wondering why it was cold all of a sudden when he heard a faint but alarming sound.

Stiles froze, standing still and not moving an inch, his feet were seemingly glued to the ground. His breath hitched and he started to feel scared and nervous. Although he didn't know where it came from or what it was, Stiles was vaguely reminded of a loud construction site that was going against practically every single building code known to man.

It was actually enough to scare Stiles away, it should have been enough to send him running for the hills but he walked towards the familiar double door entrance that lead to the cafeteria. Slowly pushing against the cold, metal surface of the door, Stiles found himself standing alone inside the isolated cafeteria, the light of the moon streaming in from the clear windows and he never felt so confused when he saw the hall empty and void of people.

Stiles released a sigh and turned towards the door. Maybe, he thought to himself as he began walking towards the double doors, it was nothing after all.

But then, the temperature, if possible, dropped even lower and Stiles saw in front of him as the light from the moon began to disappear. A part of him would have wondered how the light disappeared so quickly but he couldn't think of that at the moment, not when he turned around only to see two figures dressed heavily in black with masks that struck fear in his heart.

Stiles gulped as the figures took another step towards him. Is this the end, he asked himself as he observed the ninja-like creatures slowly walking towards him. Stiles studied the figures, and in the corner of his eye, he saw that they were like waning, in a sense, or fading. It was like, they were made out of smoke—Stiles shook his head, seeing the light seep through one of the figure, who then promptly faded.

But then, the light disappeared and the figure came back.

 _Not smoke figures_ , Stiles thought to himself as his hand found its way towards a pocket of his pants where the vial of mountain ash was. _Shadow figures_ , he corrected himself watching the two mysterious and dark forms in front of him.

A moment passed, and the shadow figures were still watching him, surprising Stiles to an extent. He had half-expected them to attack him, end it quickly and easily but they didn't. Instead, they stood in front of him like they were looming messengers of death but in a less threatening way.

Suddenly, one of the shadow figures raised a hand and Stiles saw the form's hand glow golden in the dark. He squinted at the sight of the figure's palm, seeing something he would definitely classify as weird but relevant. " _Self_ ," Stiles said to himself as one of the shadow figures nodded and stepped forward, its hand reaching for the back of his ear. Oddly enough, he didn't feel threatened or did he feel like he was in any sort of danger.

Stiles closed his eyes, waiting for something to happen when there was a quick whoosh of air and when he opened his eyes, Scott was standing in front of him, where the shadow figures should have been. "Stiles, thank God, I've found you," his best friend breathed out, placing a hand on his shoulder.

Stiles looked around, searching for traces of the shadow figures when his eyes landed on the floor where two dead fireflies were splayed across the floor. Oddly enough, Stiles has this strong feeling that they were connected to the not-so dangerous shadow figures. Also, a part of him has this gut feeling, a strong hunch that told him Scott's sudden arrival wasn't so sudden and was actually linked to the shadow-y figures that stood in front of him earlier.

Stiles narrowed his eyes at his best friend, who unflinchingly stared back at him, confused. "What are you doing here?" Stiles asked sharply, though he never did intend to be rude in the first place. He didn't want any bad blood between him and his best friend but he has this little voice that kept yelling at the back of his mind to run because something wasn't right.

Scott tilted his head to a side. "What are you talking about, Stiles? I saved you from those. . . _things_ ," Scott said with a particular animosity that rang out differently. It rolled off differently and strangely from Scott, Stiles realized, because it was something so out of character. His best friend would never say something like that.

Stiles shook his head, taking a step away from Scott, wishing that the shadow figures were still around. "You're lost. Right after the coyote attack, you disappeared. Why are you here?" Stiles remembered his phone's screen back when he just turned it on when he woke up: there was nothing new with his inbox, which meant that Scott wasn't found yet. Allison and Lydia never found Scott in the hours he had been asleep.

Scott, for a moment, his brows furrowed together in confusion and Stiles, for a second, almost believed that the man in front of him is indeed his best friend but there was something wrong. His best friend had this air of lightness around him, this aura of goodness and positivity. The only aura around the man in front of him was darkness and evil. "Yeah. I had to take care of the coyote, had to make sure that it wouldn't hurt anybody anymore," Stiles didn't have to be a werewolf to know that the man in front of him was lying.

Scott didn't _take care_ of Malia. Scott helped her turn back to human.

There was a strong, a firm look on Stiles' eyes that resembled an iron will. It was a steely gaze actually. "You're not Scott." Stiles didn't ask a question or say it as an accusation. It sounded off like he was saying a simple fact. Suddenly, there was a small spark of electricity above and Stiles' phone fell to the ground and a deep sounded form it.

Scott's evil twin, so it seems, just gave a dark laugh and an evil, twisted grin was etched into Stiles' mind, an image he wouldn't forget soon. "You're smart, Stilinski, perhaps more so than the girl, Lydia Martin, your paramour, is she not?" the voice was dark and eerie, taunting him to do something stupid but Stiles held back his anger but fear was radiating off of him. He smelled exactly like prey and the man in front of him probably knew.

"Don't hurt her," Stiles said curtly and his voice had this threatening edge to it. "I swear to that if one strand of her strawberry blonde hair is out of place, so help me God, I will—" he started but was cut off by the Scott's doppelgänger waving his hand dismissively in the air.

"Come on, Stiles, let's stop with the petty threats," the doppelgänger sneered at him, and while Stiles knew it wasn't Scott, it hurt him, causing a dull pain in his chest grow sharp again. "You're a mortal— _a powerless human_ —what can you do to an immortal? Besides, why would I be interested in a puny, _little_ banshee?" Stiles heard the man taunt but he ignored it and glared at the doppelgänger in front of him.

Stiles gulped and swallowed air, trying to calm his nerves but he still stuttered. "What do you—what do you want with _Scott_ , then?" the man in front of him raised an eyebrow, painstakingly looking like his best friend.

"I am Scott," the doppelgänger mocked innocent, using this expression that almost made Stiles' resolution melt until he remembered that his best friend was possessed. Glaring more intensely at the man, the doppelgänger sighed. "Well, soon, I _will_ be Scott and every trace of that poor, teenage boy will be erased from history because you just _had_ to doubt yourself, Stiles." It was his turn, however, to be confused and Stiles felt his brows furrow together.

"What are you talking about?" there was this heavy feeling in Stiles' stomach that told him he knew what the doppelgänger was talking about.

The man laughed in front of him, but it was nothing like his best friend. Scott's laughs were genuine and real while the doppelgänger's was cruel and had a sense of being manipulative. "Have you forgotten about our first meeting back in purgatory? I swore, we had so much fun!" flashes of memories came streaming in Stiles' mind as he remembered that night they went under water and died to serve as surrogate sacrifices for their parents.

Stiles remembered seeing the Nemeton smacked right in the middle of the endless white room that looked like a parking basement for an apartment building. He remembered Scott having to be left behind because his anchor was damaged by a dark spirit, a spirit that was around him because—

"Ahh, the detective finally understood the mystery," the dark spirit had possessed Scott when he was revived but Stiles had to wonder, why it waited so long before taking over his best friend. "I'll give you a simpler explanation, right. Perhaps a door analogy, wouldn't that be fine?" the image of Scott's face laughing maniacally would never erase itself from Stiles' memories. An evil smirk, perhaps, but that face would terrorize his nights to come. "The door to Scott's mind was left unlocked. Your best friend Scott left it unlocked because someone broke his key," Stiles felt guilt pooling in his stomach.

He was the reason why Scott's being possessed by an evil spirit?

"Of course, you're not the only one to blame." Evil Scott dismissed right away before looking straight into his eyes. "I swear, if only you hadn't been such an introvert as a young boy, to have shunned the world and escaped to the world of Japanese animated-cartoon, we would not have this problem." Stiles remembered the shadow figures and the symbol for self, which was like an upside down 5. He knew what it meant because he had spent the better half of his 5th grade summer playing with Scott and watching anime with him.

Stiles stared as possessed Scott paced around him.

"The onis," Stiles nodded slightly. The shadow figures were called onis. "They're designed to find out the mischievous of the lot. The black sheep, in other words. The elemental kitsunes could be the white sheep while the slightly more treacherous one will be the black sheep. Let's give the odd one out a name, shall we? Nogitsune, Stiles. _Void_ , at your service," Stiles continued to glare at Void as he mocked and bowed low.

"Why now? Why wait?" Stiles asked sharply.

"Because I couldn't, not at the moment, but you see you, once again, gave me the strength to push through young Scott's mental boundaries." Stiles faltered. How had he helped the villain again? "You see, I've been haunting our young true alpha with riddles of what I need and then you just had to accept Kira's papers, putting you in trouble, getting yourself injured and getting noble Scott to take your pain, and my was it delicious!" Void gestured to himself, to Scott before flashing red eyes surrounded by black sclera. It was a real demonic sight. " _This_ , boy, is just the beginning."

It made sense to Stiles now, but a particular question burned in his mind. "Then why are you here? Why aren't you acting on your head start for world domination? Here to thank me?" Void waved his hands in the air dismissively, resembling a fox.

"Please, if I have anybody to thank, it's the Argent girl," Void chuckled darkly that left Stiles uneasy, wondering what was going to happen to him. In the movies, usually, once the sidekick learns of the villain's convoluted plan to take over the world, he dies. Stiles swallowed and stared at Void, wondering is his last moment on Earth was going to be filled with taunting and mystery. "But to answer your question, Stiles, I can't take over the world, not when someone is anchoring your best friend, Scott, to humanity." Stiles raised a brow at the statement.

"Scott doesn't have an anchor." Isaac said so himself. He and Allison were loose canons and they should stay away from Scott, which, of course, he didn't really pay much attention to and went with his best friend anyway.

Void gave him a look that seemingly made him think otherwise. "Oh, think again, Stiles. Scott isn't going derailed because he still have someone keeping him grounded, a woman who has his heart and soul keeping his humanity in check and because of that. . ." Void gestured to himself and Stiles understood what it meant: Kira was Scott's new anchor.

"You need Scott to lose his anchor, to turn off his humanity so that you can finally take over." Stiles stared at Void, who hummed happily, satisfied at his conclusion. "So this is why you lured me here, so you can kill me, so you can take control," Void raised a brow at him and shook his head, a sadistic grin on Scott's face appeared.

"No, Stiles, of course not. Let's go back to the door analogy, shall we? Scott's mind has a door that keeps all the evil thoughts out from his mind. The door, in a way, keeps his moral compass in check, but your best friend left it unlocked because you broke the key. Naturally, it would seem like it's your fault but it isn't, you have to think of the bigger picture—why does there have to be a door and why does there have to be an exit?" Stiles' mind was flooded with thoughts and he thought of one person and it wasn't Kira. "So, no, Stiles, I don't have to kill you. In order to take control of Scott, I need to take out his anchor, the girl who started it all." Stiles finally understood.

It was Allison, she's Scott's anchor. It was _always_ Allison.

Stiles felt protective of his friend, Allison, now that he's learned that there was a red mark hanging over her head. "I won't let you hurt her." Void chuckled darkly, waving his hand in the air, dismissing the thought easily as if it was a stupid idea.

Void circled around him, studying him like he was some animal. " _Keep your friends close and your enemies closer_ , isn't that right? _Know thy self, know thy enemy. A thousand battles, a thousand victories_ , that one was by Sun Tzu, is it not?"

"I don't understand." Stiles also didn't get why there was a need for quotations.

Void, however, didn't take his not knowing lightly. In a matter of minutes, Scott's face was inches away from his, a look of fury in Void's demonic eyes. "Pain, boy, is ephemeral!" and just like that, Stiles understood.

"My pain isn't enough for you to keep control of Scott's body," Stiles felt hope, suddenly. Things weren't as hopeless and bleak as they seemed after all as Void stepped away from him, calming himself down. "You need Scott to take more people's pain," Void shook his head, bending down on one knee to get one of the fireflies.

"Not more, per se, but instead, time." Void raised his brow quizzically that taunted Stiles. "Were you not listening to me? There's a reason why Scott is showering that girl, Kira Yukimura, his affection and it's because he needs to keep his enemy closer to him than his friends, to know her so that he could win against the kitsune." Stiles stared at Void as he held the dead firefly in his palm. "But, of course, your friend is unaware of his subconscious' true motive."

Taking a step back, Stiles' back was eventually pressed against the wall. "You want to know her weaknesses." He said blankly, his hand once again finding its way towards his pocket where his vial of mountain ash was. A part of Stiles wanted to pour its content down Void's throat when he realized that it was still Scott, just possessed. He couldn't risk hurting or killing his best friend. "That's why you need more time," Stiles turned his head towards the door and thoughts began racing in his mind. "I'll tell everyone. I won't let you get away with it."

Void smiled mischievously, reminding Stiles of a fox. A sly fox. "Oh, but I will, boy. Not now, of course, but eventually. And besides, who will they believe: the one who was marked by the oni or the one who was hospitalized?" Stiles raised a brow and checked the back of Scott's ear. There was no mark like the kanji for self.

"You can't mark yourself. Scott, he's your host and he's still a werewolf. He'll heal himself. You won't have a mark, everyone will know." Void was impressed and Stiles had this sinking feeling in his stomach when blood red irises looked him in the eye.

"You will get the vial and pour its content into your palm." Stiles didn't know why he was doing what Void was telling him to do but he did. Slowly, Stiles took the vial from his pocket and poured its content into his calloused hand. "Then, you will give me the empty vial peacefully." Stiles didn't know what was happening to him. "It's called compelling, boy. Vampires have the same ability," Void snapped sharply before breaking the vial in his hand, the shards now shining in the moonlight.

Stiles sputtered. "What are you doing?" Void took his free hand and pricked a finger, letting the blood drip into the pile of mountain ash in his other hand.

"You're quite right, see, Scott is a werewolf and any self-inflicted wound will heal quite fast but mountain ash, well, we all know its magical effects on all supernaturals," Void gave him a sadistic grin as he took one of the shards sticking up from his palm and dipped the piece of glass in the wet ash. "And a Spark's blood can do many things, Stiles." The glass smoked weakly, and for a second, Stiles hoped that it would be enough for the fire alarms to go off but it was silent.

With a flick of the finger, Void's hand was behind Scott's ears and marked himself, probably with the kanji sign for self. Void screamed in pain and Stiles inched forward, wanting to help his best friend when he remembered that it wasn't Scott.

Then, when the screaming died down, Void stood up and looked outside the window. "My time is almost up," Void looked at him in the eye, flashing the red irises and the black sclera that was far more scarier than any demon he's seen in the movies. "You'll make your way back to your room in the East wing, and you will go back to sleep, forgetting that any of this has happened." Stiles shook his head and tried to punch Void, but it was like he had disappeared into thin air!

"What the—" Stiles looked around and noticed that he was in his room and his eyelids were getting heavier, a yawn escaped his lips. Seeing the bed, Stiles walked towards it and sat on the edge before lying down on the bed. A satisfied hum escaped his lips, feeling sleepy when he remembered that Void was just there and Scott was possessed. Immediately, Stiles stood up and wanted to go when something red glowed in the dark and an eerie voice filled his ears, making him more sleepy.

"You will lie down again, Stiles," and he did, resting his head on the pillow. "You will forget about everything and you will close your eyes," a soft whimper escaped from Stiles' lips, almost sounding like a strangled sob as he chanted to himself a mantra, telling himself that he will not forget. "And when you open your eyes, you will see light streaming in your window." Stiles tried to fight the sleepiness but it was too strong when he suddenly remembered something.

His phone, he had dropped it. He had recorded their entire conversation!

"You woke up in the middle of the night and you got up, only to get a drink of water but after that, you fell asleep again." Stiles unwillingly closed his eyes half way, his mind chanting over and over again to remember something.

 _What should he remember?_

"You will wake up in the morning, and your best friend, Scott, is found and you will continue about your daily life. So, sleep, Stiles." Stiles' felt the presence subside and he wondered, who was there with him.

 _Who was there?_

 _Your phone. Remember._ Stiles' eyes slowly closed no matter how hard he fought.

" _Remember._ " And finally, when he couldn't take it anymore, Stiles' eyes closed but he continued to struggle to open his eyes. " _Remember._ " Stiles' mind chanted the word over and over again until he could open his eyes.

Stiles sat up, awake, and watched the golden rays of the sun illuminating his room. His father, already in his uniform, was actually standing in the door frame with a bag of breakfast from the local diner. "Hey, Stiles, anything interesting happened?" Stiles knew that his father saw the worried expression on his face. His Dad was worried about him, but Stiles didn't should be worried. "You okay, kid?" his Dad asked.

Stiles grinned, dismissing the weird feeling he had earlier. ' _Probably just a weird dream I'm trying to remember._ '

"Yeah, Dad, I'm fine."

* * *

 _ **Hello, people of the internet!**_

 _ **Borrowed the concept of compelling from The Vampire Diaries and The Originals from the CW. Another one is that the way Void spoke, for me, would be like how Klaus would speak. Anyways, I like Scira and Scalia. Rather fond of the two ships but I will always go back to Scallison. Scott and Allison happened to be my first ship for the Teen Wolf fandom, even before my legendary OTP, Stydia, and I've got a soft spot for them (Scallison) so this fanfiction isn't a Scira fic, though I will probably make one when I have time.**_

 _ **So, let me know of your thoughts by leaving a short comment using the review section below! Also, don't forget to fave and follow!**_


	10. CHAPTER IX - ALLISON

_**Note that in this chapter, the italicized paragraph(s) enclosed in linebreaks are flashbacks. This chapter will be kind of like Teen Wolf Season 3A, episode 6 "Motel California" because the plot of the chapter will be heavily influenced by flashbacks.  
**_

* * *

 **SUCCUMB**

 **CHAPTER IX - ALLISON**

* * *

Allison groaned when a beam of light hit her face, opening her eyes to realize that she was not on her bed nor was she inside her room. She was actually sitting on the opposite end of her cream couch inside the apartment's living room. Her father was sitting on a chair, across from her, with dried blood caking his forehead and Allison began wondering how that happened.

Hearing her phone beep, reminding her of school and how she couldn't afford to miss more class, Allison stood up, immediately feeling her feet and legs sore, as if she had been trekking the whole night and strangely enough when she looked down to inspect a lingering uncomfortable feeling, she realized her boots and the carpet was covered with mud, that there was a trail from the door leading up to where she and her father was.

Also, her back ached like she had been thrown against a wall or something.

Something weighed heavy in Allison's stomach, a feeling that refused to fade away. "What happened?" her head swung around to the spot where her father was, sitting up straightly, wincing when his fingers touched the wound on his forehead. The confused expression Allison saw confirmed her thoughts that her father knew just as much as she did about the events last night—little to nothing at all.

Allison wouldn't be surprised if her father didn't anything because if that was the case, he wouldn't be alone. It was like she had no recollection of what happened last night but she knew that there was something missing, something incredibly important that tugged at her stomach, telling her to remember but she couldn't.

Allison thought of Derek, how he told her of when his first love, Paige had died inside the root cellar where her Dad, Stiles' father, and Scott's mother were rounded up to be used by Jennifer as sacrifices. It shouldn't have come to the point where they had a mad goose chase to hunt down Jennifer to find their parents, and things wouldn't have gotten so desperate to teaming up with Deucalion if the Talia Hale never took Derek and Peter's memories.

A part of Allison thought of her memories being stolen from her as her fingers found its way to the back of her neck, checking if there were any marks of claws but there was nothing. She didn't feel any wound that would have told her that she was attacked by some random werewolf to take her memories of last night back when she was at the preserve—

Allison looked at her father, a brow raised and her expression thoughtful. "Dad, were we at the preserve last night?" looking around, she looked at the carpet and at the floor, noting that being in the preserve would have explained why their shoes and pants were covered with mud.

Allison's father had this deep and somewhat troubled look on his face before his hand cupped his chin. "I'm not sure." There was this doubtful expression that made her want to search the entire, to find something. "We were hunting something, weren't we? I think we were hunting someone in the woods. Maybe a violent one, a rogue?" her Dad offered hopefully but there was this doubt in his voice that caused Allison to think that her father was trying to convince himself rather than his daughter who stood in front of him, confused.

And her father didn't make sense, a particular word he said had sparked something in her mind that gave Allison this fuzzy feeling, her mind going all static-y as she stepped out of the living room, staring both ends of the hallway that lead to either the rooms and the study or the kitchen and the elevator. "Not a rogue, but there was violence. I think." Allison said, almost feeling like she was in a daze, a part of her panicking thinking that she was being haunted by her Aunt Kate when something didn't add up.

Like Stiles and Scott, Allison didn't know that she was being haunted by her aunt until she'd see the demonic apparition so she crossed that option out. She wasn't being haunted again because, somehow, she had overcome the effects of re-powering the Nemeton. Allison was sure that whatever she was experiencing, it wasn't because of the Nemeton because whenever she was "visited" by the visions of her Aunt Kate, she felt cold like the temperature suddenly dropped.

Allison's head ached, her hands rushing to her head, her eyes closed with the pain spiking. _Like a ghost_ , she thought to herself.

* * *

 _There was shouting before Allison felt a twig snap under the pressure of her foot as she bolted towards a tree, crouching low as if to take cover from the rustling sound that came from a bush nearby. "Did you hear that?" she whispered to her father who was hiding behind a tree next to her. Allison's finger collided against the cold metal trigger of her tactical assault crossbow, her breath suddenly fogging up like the temperature suddenly dropped as a particular scent filled the air._

 _Her father, apparently, did hear the rustling sound that came from in front of them when they had just heard the same rustling and whoosh from behind them. Her Dad had a gun in his hand and the other was inching towards a pocket inside his jacket, probably where his phone was. "Do you think we have a ghost problem here? We could call the Campbells or the Winchesters—" her father was cut off when a dark and shadow-y presence appeared behind him, throwing him in her direction._

 _Allison knew ghosts from the bestiary and from what she's seeing, she and her father weren't facing a ghost._

* * *

Snapping back to reality when she's heard a soft beep from behind her, Allison realized that she was inside the kitchen and her father was checking a small tablet near the telephone, pointing at the screen that showed when the security code was punched in only to display a particular time. "We went home at 2:47 in the morning, we were definitely hunting something." Allison nodded but soon narrowed her eyes at a small cabinet near the door where her arrow case was. She never left that case out in the open just like that.

Feeling her father trail behind her, Allison opened up the case and noticed a few arrows missing. Not a significant amount that screamed bloody massacre or a murder, but enough to maim or seriously injure which confused her. "If we were hunting a violent one, then why didn't we kill it?" Allison wondered out loud, going straight for the gun hanging by her father's hip and taking away the magazine, showing only a few silver bullets.

They weren't wolfsbane. "Our clothes," her father murmured, jarring Allison back to reality when she set down the magazine on the cabinet where her arrow case was. Their clothes, though covered in dust and mud, was fairly clear of blood. Usually, when they killed werewolf, they would take the body and bury it because everyone deserves a proper burial but their clothes have no trace of blood whatsoever which meant a lucky or accurate shot wasn't the case.

"What happened last night?" Allison asked, her voice low and was practically whispering because she didn't feel safe, it was like someone was listening in their conversation, afraid that someone was trying to hide from her and her father, that when the person learns that they're connecting the dots, she and her father will end up with yet another clean slate with no idea as to what happened the night before when suddenly, a loud knock sounded and then a short thump followed.

Allison felt her heart jump when the sound reached her and only noticed that her hand was inching towards a knife near her when her father began inching his way towards the door, opening it halfway when a body fell to the ground, Isaac's unconscious body was on her father's feet when everything came to her. It was only at the moment when her father yelled of how Isaac was wounded and not healing did the events register in her mind.

Only then did Allison found the ability to move and drop to her knees, trying to wake her friend up. "Dad!" Allison gasped when her father started punching Isaac, wanting to stop him but she knew he was doing it for her friend. Isaac was probably in shock from whatever had attacked him or something and he clearly wasn't healing so her father decided to take matters into his own hands— _quite literally_ —and try to trigger her friend's werewolf side to begin the healing process.

Allison noticed her friend's shirt. It was the same retro British band t-shirt he wore yesterday when he rounded her and the rest of their friends up when he was trying to find out why she and Stiles are getting better while Scott was getting worse. The thought occurred to her that Isaac was probably unconscious since yesterday morning because he never really did join her and Lydia for lunch.

"Isaac!" Allison shook her friend's shoulder, murmuring his name in an effort to wake him up as her father did the more aggressive approach when Isaac did wake up, sitting up straight, the bright and warm golden eyes striking as he got up on his feet, rushing away from where he was lying on the ground.

Her father beside her tensed up and his hand reached out for the gun inside the holster hanging by his hip. "What's wrong, Isaac?" Allison heard her father ask slowly, eyeing Isaac carefully when her friend let out a deep breath, his eyes closed and his breath shaky. In that moment, Allison knew that her father was no longer afraid that Isaac might go wild or go in a killing frenzy because the both of them could hear the fear resonate in the air as her friend stood close the window.

"The light," Isaac said, looking relieved as a beam of light passed through the clear window before he pointed at her shadow. It was only then when Allison realized that Isaac was now not only afraid of tight spaces but also of the dark. "I don't. . .the dark, I _can't_. . .it was so dark."

Beside her, Allison's father tensed up again. "Isaac, what happened? Who attacked you?" her father's voice held fear as it shook. To any other person, it would seem like her father was angry at whoever or whatever attacked Isaac but to her, to Allison who knew her Dad like the back of her hand, she knew that he was scared and that something was incredibly wrong because even a ghost's haunting won't make anyone's skin ice cold.

Isaac shuddered, probably from being cold as he closed his eyes, enjoying the heat of the light from the sun. "I don't know. It was _dark_ ," he confessed and Allison saw her father's hand twitch in the corner of her eye. "I was inside the lacrosse team's locker room and I noticed that the windows were blacked out with black Cartolina, probably some freshmen trying to prepare for Mischief Night, you know, for a Halloween prank then suddenly, I wasn't alone." Isaac looked like he was reminiscing, reliving what had happened to him. "There were five of them, all dressed in black and they seem to fade away like smoke or—"

Turning her head to her father, Allison saw the steely gaze her father gave Isaac. "Shadows. They seem to fade away like shadows, don't they?" Isaac's eyes widened in surprise, nodding. "And their eyes were this yellow-ish green, something like. . ." her father trailed off, his brows furrowing together as if he was trying to think of a word that would fit the description perfectly when Isaac narrowed his eyes on a glow-in-the-dark magnet on the fridge door.

"Like a firefly. Their eyes glowed like a firefly." Allison looked at Isaac and her father, confused at the understanding happening in between them, wondering what her father knew and what happened to her friend. Isaac's reached for the back of his neck, as if to scratch something when he winced in pain. "And they kind of reached out for me, like a hand like this," Isaac held his hand in front of her, probably trying show what happened to him when Allison spotted her father's brows furrowing together.

Allison narrowed her eyes at her father, who was unaware at her gaze because he was deep in his thoughts. _He knows something about the attackers but he doesn't know everything about them_ , she thought to herself when Isaac pulled his hand away and looked at her strangely as if to ask what she was thinking.

"Dad," Allison began, turning to face her father. "What do you know about this?" Isaac also turned to face her father, too, having this expression.

Her fathers shifted uncomfortably, his feet tapping the ground as if he was restless, and his expression showing how troubled and confused he was. "It was a long time ago; I was young, just finished my training back then when Gerard sent me across the country to do some gun deal with a Japanese mobster when three shadow figures— _onis_ —appeared and one of the mobsters turned into something called a nogitsune and there's nothing much I know about them. . ." trailing off, her father's eyes widened, as if he remembered something and went out of the kitchen, going inside his office to get a small wooden box.

Allison followed, watching as her father slowly open the box and beside her, Isaac sucked in a breath of air and pointed at the content of the box. Looking closer, she saw that it was bits and pieces of black ceramic. If Allison didn't know better about the supernatural world, she would have thought of it as a broken plate.

Isaac walked by her, passing across her as if she wasn't there. Her father inched a bit to a side, giving her friend some room to take a closer look at the fragment of what seemed to be like fine ceramic. "Their masks. This is what their masks were made out of—how'd you get it?" Isaac asked pointedly, raising the piece of what looked like black ceramic in the air. Allison could see from her friend's face that he needed to know. "I did everything I can but it was like every single punch I throw at them went straight through. How did you stop them?" Isaac asked through gritted teeth.

For once in her life, and never did she see the day coming, Allison saw her father confused speechless. The strong man she portrayed him to be, a pillar of strength and will and head-strong determination even after so much tragedy, that image Allison had of her father was gone when she saw her Dad breathe shakily and tremble at the mere thought of a shadow figure, an oni. "I don't know, Isaac, but I have a bad feeling about this so the both of you," he pointed at her, too, grabbing a gun from his desk and checking its magazine. "I need the both of you to keep low and stay quiet about this. Just until I know enough."

Isaac, beside, her was unexpectedly calm and reserved. Allison didn't expect that from him, seeing that she would always remember the boy who accepted the bite from the then power-seeking alpha Derek Hale used to be, the teenager who was abused and beaten by his father to a point where the only thing he had in mind was to kill the man when he finally got the chance— _the power_ —to do something.

All Allison got from Isaac was a scoff, a look of disbelief. "You mean you lead those. . . _things_ here? Now?" Isaac's voice finally showed emotion; raw anger and fury burned in his eyes and Allison already stepped forward to try and stop her friend before anything bad could happen when the look in his eyes changed all of a sudden. " _Now_." Isaac echoed the words and a look of horror found its way unto her father's face and Allison, too, realized what the word meant. "If _this_ happened to Scott, I don't know what's going to happen to him. . ."

Allison went out of the study and went straight for the living room, immediately spotting her bag and fishing her phone out of one of its pockets. Dialing a particular number, Isaac and her father came inside the living room and pointed at a telephone. "Isaac, call Melissa and ask her if she's seen Scott and Dad, call the Sheriff and ask for the surveillance footage, we need to see if a camera's picked Scott up," Allison directed when she stopped, suddenly, in her tracks while pacing around when she saw the look on Isaac's face and the expression that probably mirrored her own on her father.

Isaac did a double-take. "Wait. What do you mean? When did Scott go missing?" the look on her father's face asked the same thing but there was something deeper into that expression, the look that spoke volumes and confused Allison even more.

"He is, or at least I think he is but the real question is _how_ did we find out about Scott being missing?"

* * *

 _The sound of a siren reminded Allison of every single one of Jennifer Blake's victims, reminding her of dead bodies and people she could have saved but failed to do so._

 _Allison stood in front of the camping grounds, most of the adrenaline junkies hiking and the outdoors-y people with fishing and camping gear were ordered to go home but she kept firm on her spot, refusing to move away from the police tape that kept the place off limits to civilians._

 _The police had been combing the place for a while now, an hour or two probably, and there was still nothing._

 _There was some talk among the campers, the civilians who were seemingly unaware as the police and the paramedics escorted a somewhat shaky Kira with a gash running fairly long across her arm with Mr. Yukimura trailing behind while talking to someone on the cellphone. There was a lot of blood but it wasn't an alarming amount for those who were used to the sight but the real show stopper was the fact that a deputy had been calling Henry Tate when, from the woods, a teenage girl dressed up in only a jacket was being escorted out of the woods._

 _A small sigh escaped Allison's lips when she realized who the girl being escorted was. **Scott found a way to turn Malia back into a human** , she thought to herself. With the whispering growing louder, a particular voice rang above the rest and Allison could hear was a shout from the woods._

 _Damning all propriety and tossing it out of her figurative window, Allison bent low on her knees and sneaked inside the restricted area, ignoring the cries her best friend yelled or the fact that people were taking pictures of her when she heard a familiar voice— **Deputy Jordan Parrish, she thinks** —shout about a bag mercilessly torn apart and an unconscious boy bleeding._

 _Allison has been waiting for what seemed to be the longest hour— **or two** —of her life and it seemed like an eternity and to hell was she going to wait for some special broadcast from the Sheriff's Station to only know what happened to Scott._

 _Honestly, in her life, Allison never thought that she could run so fast but she did, especially when her mind conjured up the image of Scott unmoving and unnaturally still for a boy she knew to have so much energy. So, she ran as fast as she could with Lydia trailing behind her only to find the Sheriff carrying his son, Stiles, in his arms. It was a sad scene to take up in her mind as she saw a father covered in his son's blood._

 _Lydia, unsurprisingly and understandably, left her side and went straight for the Sheriff's, her eyes searching frantically for a sign that her boyfriend was alive and breathing, muttering the usually hyperactive teenager's name over and over again, hoping to get a reaction. " **Stiles. . .Stiles!** " Allison, of course, felt bad because her friend—her best friend's boyfriend—was hurt but she couldn't help but feel like it was wrong._

 _While the Sheriff brought over Stiles to one of the ambulance parked near the entrance to the trail and the camping grounds, Allison tried to sneak away from the deputies holding her by the arm and searched for Scott herself, shouting his name over and over again as she ran through the somewhat thick forest when a woman caught up to her and brought her back to where her father stood waiting for her. She tried to get away, but her father's arms were far too strong for her to break free and eventually, when the skyline had split in two, the Sheriff walked up to her with an apologetic look on his face._

 _"I'm sorry," Allison heard him mutter and her father's arms continued to hold her inside his arms. "We couldn't find him. But we've got an APB on him and I've already took the liberty of filing out a missing person's case for Scott." The Sheriff breathed out, obviously itching to get out of the place and go to the hospital where his son currently was. "Thank you, by the way, Allison. Everything would have turned out different if you hadn't called us."_

 _Allison wanted to feel better— **she had saved Stiles and Kira** —but her heart still weighed heavy because the person she wanted to save was missing and she didn't know if he was safe or he was still even alive. It was wrong to feel that their lives were worth less but it felt like that to Allison, and while she had nothing against the two, she loves Scott and in the end, it's still his safety she would prioritize._

 _Nodding wordlessly, Allison wanted nothing more than to go back to the apartment and arm herself with her crossbow with a few flashbang arrows to search the woods because she needed to find Scott but her father still had his strong grip on her arm and insisted that they would go with the Sheriff to the hospital to visit Stiles and tell the news to Melissa._

* * *

Allison stared straight at her father, her brows furrowed in confusion. "Because we were," in front of her, her Dad nodded and cupped his chin as if he was just remembering what exactly happened. "We were waiting alongside the other campers when the search was called off because it was getting dark and it was dangerous. The Sheriff told us himself before we all went to the hospital to visit Stiles," she remembered the car ride, how it was so quiet and how there was tension in the air because she wanted to go look for Scott.

But her Dad didn't allow her to until—

Her father had fixed his steely gaze on her. "You sneaked out, went to the woods to go and search for him yourself." Allison remembered bumping to her father in the middle of the woods, the look of disappointment on his face affected her in a way she couldn't look her her father in the eye for the rest of the night.

Allison nodded, the events of last night making a bit more sense. "We were fighting because you wanted to take me home and I didn't." Allison swallowed air when she remembered what she did next, what she said next to her father who only looked after her safety. "We were shouting," her voice trembled as the words rolled off her tongue, suddenly reliving this fear of something.

Allison kept shouting at her Dad when something behind them made this _whoosh_ sound that made her stop, her shouts dying down before she bolted towards the tree nearest to her. "Then we heard something." Her father said in a deadly calm voice that, when she turned to see Isaac, he had this uncomfortable look on his face.

* * *

 _Allison saw her breath fog in the air when she narrowly missed hitting a tree._

 _"Allison, keep up!" her father, who was way ahead of her, bellowed and she quickly picked up pace, avoiding the trees when she heard a few gunshots. Her stomach churned at the sound and if it weren't for the fact that she could still hear twigs crunching and the sound of running from behind her, she would have stopped to check and see if he was okay._

 _"Dad!" she yelled, not looking back when she made a sharp turn, avoiding a small rock formation. "Be careful! We can't kill him!" Allison huffed when she jumped over yet another rock formation but lost her footing when she landed, causing her to tumble. Allison screamed in pain when she tried walking, her ankle protested as she still tried to fast walk when she had bumped into someone's chest._

 _She had half expected it to be her father. Allison was, in fact, hoping that the person she had bumped into was her father but she didn't get to guess long when she was thrown into the air and her back painfully slammed against the ground. "Allison!" she heard her father's voice sound in the distance before running was heard in the distance and gunshots rang in the air, alarming Allison even though her eyelids felt heavy enough._

 _Allison wanted to stop her father when he appeared from the thick forest, holding two guns that were undoubtedly loaded with wolfsbane bullets. "Please be careful, Dad," she croaked finally succumbing into sleep when her father begged for everything to stop, yelling a name in the end._

 _Though she had blacked out, Allison could feel a dark presence hovering above her. "You look like you're doing rather well in Chemistry. Perhaps you would know who I'm looking for. 19, 53, and 88."_

* * *

Allison was jarred back to reality when the landline inside the kitchen went ringing and Isaac was out of the tension-filled office in a matter of seconds.

Rushing behind her father, Allison went inside the kitchen only to see Isaac with an unreadable expression on his face that made her a bit nervous. "That was Derek." Allison was actually quite surprise when Isaac told her and her father that it was Derek calling their landline. She half expected the caller to be Melissa calling in for some help with Scott because he's still missing or something like that but never did she consider Derek as someone who would call her landline.

Memories of her torturing his beta resurfaced and seeing the grimace on Isaac's face, Allison knew that her chemo-signal gave it away and he was probably reliving the twenty or so stabs to the stomach using her Chinese ring daggers.

"What did he say?" Allison asked despite the tugging at her stomach that said she didn't need Isaac to answer her to know that something bad had happened and it involved Scott.

Isaac gulped and avoided her questioning glances. "He said that," his voice wavered and he looked disoriented like he didn't know what to do. "He, er—Derek found Scott passed out in the middle of his loft, unconscious. That his skin was ice cold, that there was a lot of blood." Isaac coughed to clear his throat and her father pushed pass by her, stepping forward. "We need to help Scott."

"Isaac, what happened to Scott?" her Dad demanded.

"He has no anchor. There was a lot of blood and that Scott isn't healing," at first, Allison was confused because Scott's a werewolf, a supernatural shape shifter who can heal faster than any human can when she remembered that he had lost his anchor. He had nothing to draw his strength from which meant he can't control his werewolf side which included his healing.

Isaac was getting restless, just a few minutes after the phone call and his hand was still hovering above the telephone. Eventually, his unreadable expression morphed into something different and Allison realized then that he was trying to keep his cool but failed and snapped. It was his alpha in trouble, so naturally, Isaac would be in distress, too. "We have to get to him. I'll meet you at the loft." Isaac said curtly and in just a few seconds, her friend was out of the apartment.

There was a few seconds of silence inside the kitchen. Allison stared at her father and saw this expression on his face that told her he was remembering something, probably from last night, and she couldn't help but wonder what it was about when an alarm clock rang. The sound of the clock jarred Allison back to reality and realized that there was something she could do to help Scott as she ran towards her room and went through her nightstand, going through the receipts she kept in there until she found a small calling card.

"Allison?" her father's voice reached her ears and when she turned around, the card still inside her hands, she saw that her Dad was a bit unfocused and that had pretty much confirmed her theory on him reliving or remembering something from last night but as much as she wanted to ask her father about it, they didn't have the time to do an interrogation. "What's that?" he asked, his eyes narrowed at the small piece of specialty board in her hand.

"Monroe. We have to get the watch back," her father's brows had furrowed.

"Allison, it's only been two days, I doubt that the man's finished with it already!" Allison shook her head and ran for the living room, hoping to see her cellphone in the place she woke up in before seeing it placed on top of the coffee table. Ignoring her father's protests, Allison dialed the number written on the calling card and soon, the ringing had stopped and a rather nasally voice answered.

"Hello?" Allison heard Monroe's as she grabbed her car keys and her father was behind her. "Uh, who is this?"

"Hey, Monroe, this is Allison Argent. You know, the vintage Lusina girl?" Allison breathed out, running towards the elevator, pressing down on the floor for the parking when her father finally got in. "Is there any chance that I can get the watch today? I kind of need it right now because of an emergency." There was a bit of shuffling and some other noise before there was a period of silence.

Soon, when Allison was getting antsy and impatient, Monroe spoke up shakily into the phone. "Sorry, had to go to the workshop and see if it's ready." There was a bit noise and Allison could see that Monroe placed the phone on top of a table or something and placed it on speaker mode. "So, back to the watch—I've fixed the bronze casing and cleared all the rusts. As for the clockwork itself, the shards of glass has been removed and as a watch per se, it's good but the leather straps aren't replaced yet. Though, if you want, I could head over to, say, Beacon Hills Plaza and give the watch to you."

Allison breathed in relief when she realized that the watch was fixed, and while new leather straps would have been good for its durability, she realized that the old ones still probably held the same chemo-signal that calmed down Scott before they took their ice bath to save their parents. "Yeah, yeah. That's great. See you there, Monroe." She said into the phone before hanging up, looking behind her to see her father's SUV exiting the parking lot.

Soon, her phone beeped and showed a text from her Dad. " _Derek called. Needs help with Scott. Going to Dr. Deaton. Go ahead to the watch repairman and meet us at the loft._ " Allison's stomach took a turn for the worse as he placed her phone down and drove all the way to Beacon Hills Plaza, stopping parking in front of a famous coffee shop where she and Monroe agreed to meet up and while she's waiting for a sign that the Wesen Blutbad was there, she couldn't help but think of the text message her father sent her.

Her Dad going ahead before her to Derek's loft was one thing but getting Deaton all of a sudden was another.

Allison knew that Scott wasn't attending the sessions with Deaton to help cope with the after-effects that came with dying and re-powering the Nemeton but to have his boss brought in was something that worried her endlessly and, with the mention of the veterinarian's name, she immediately thought of the worst when suddenly there was a knock on her car window and when she turned to her side to see who it was, she was Monroe holding a small velvet box.

Calming down and regaining her composure, Allison rolled down her window and gave Monroe a tight smile. "Sorry for having to drag you out here," she gave an apologetic look but Monroe waved it off and gave a warm smile and handed the small velvet box. Allison opened it and saw the watch, and true to his words, the watch had a new bronze casing and paused a while, just looking at the hands of the watch move and hear it sound.

"No big deal," Monroe pointed out that if she wanted to keep the watch in tip-top shape, she'd have to get it serviced every now and then. "Oh, and, good luck with your werewolf friend. I mean, if a pretty girl like you handing an equally beautiful and sentimental watch like this isn't enough to anchor him to his humanity, then I have no idea what it would take to get to him." Allison stared at Monroe, surprised that he knew when he pointed to his nose. "The black blood combined with the chemo-signals on the straps reeked of sentimental value for your werewolf friend's family and your worrying gives it away."

Allison couldn't find the words to say anything, to either deny or thank him so she just nodded before revving up the engine and yet when she looked at her rear-view mirror, Monroe had a warm smile on his a face and a thumbs up.

Suddenly, her phone vibrated against her leg and when she fished out the phone, she saw a message from Mr. Yukimura, and while she wondered at first how the new History teacher managed to get her phone number, Allison remembered her school records and how teachers were allowed to the student's contact information.

' _This is Mr. Yukimura, Allison. Just wanted to ask a favor from you. Can you ask Scott to join us for dinner? A thank you token from me and my wife for saving our daughter, Kira_.'

Driving to Derek's loft was more of a blur to Allison as she just spent the majority of the time just looking plainly at the road and glancing at the watch as if it would magically disappear into the air, leaving her without anything to help with Scott when she pulled up on a turn, spotting a familiar building and her father's SUV near Derek's black 2010 Camaro.

Pulling up on a spot near her Dad's car, Allison grabbed the small velvet box and dashed into the building, making her way towards Derek's loft which was on the top floor. When she was near the loft, Allison a familiar voice yelling and soon, when she knocked on the door, no one answered or opened it. For a second, Allison was getting worried, wondering if something happened to her Dad and her friends when the locks clicked and soon Derek was standing in front of her, his face covered with scratches that were healing nicely.

But still, Allison could see the depth of the wounds. She could see hos much blood stained Derek's t-shirt but it paled in comparison when she spotted the crimson red liquid with stripes of jet black pooling in the middle of the loft and Allison was sure that it was from Scott.

"What happened here?" Allison asked, seeing the entire loft in disarray with random numbers etched into the ground and the walls, the furniture was tossed aside and were upside down.

Derek, the one who had opened the door. "I honestly don't know what happened or how it happened but Scott ended up inside the loft, covered in blood and mud." Allison gripped the velvet box and crouched near the blood pooling on the ground of the loft, smacked right in the middle. "I just got back, actually, from Mexico with Peter when we found Scott writhing in pain, murmuring these numbers." Allison stood up and saw in the ground, the numbers 19, 53, and 88 etched on the concrete floor with claws probably.

"I seriously don't know why we don't just kidnap the girl to calm Scott down." Derek was annoyed at the impression and the poker face turned into a scowl, glaring at Isaac. "We can steal her memories later but right now, we need someone to calm Scott down and anchor him to fucking humanity!" Isaac yelled and Derek massaged his forehead, obviously trying to stay calm. Allison wanted to intervene when she realized something.

* * *

 _Feeling her body protest, Allison saw her father standing with a blank and somewhat jaded expression on his face and she wanted to call out to him when she was suddenly grabbed by the shoulder. Soon, she was looking at this terrifying set of red irises, much like an alpha's eyes, but the sclera was black and not white, reminding her of demons._

 _"Now, Allison, I want you to look and listen closely, alright?" the menacing voice came out as a sadistic laugh. "You're going to forget everything and you're going to wake up with no memory of this at all, okay?" Allison wanted to protest but she couldn't. It was like she was **compelled** to follow the voice._

* * *

"Compelling!"

Isaac and Derek looked at her, questioning glances were shot at her general direction when footsteps sounded. "Quiet now, Miss Argent," Peter walked down the spiral staircase, grimacing at probably the wounds on his arms or the headache he was seemingly having as he massaged his forehead. "It's a little but too early to wake up the neighbors, isn't it?" he smiled sarcastically and headed straight for the kitchen, avoiding the puddle of blood in the middle of the living room to go get a glass of water.

Allison ignored Peter and searched the loft, looking for signs of her father and of Deaton when there was a loud crash from one of the upstairs room. Derek sighed and Isaac growled at his former alpha. "I told you, we should just kidnap this girl already!" Isaac ran for the the staircase but was stopped by Deaton and her father walking down, panting and catching their breath as if they've been through a triathlon instead of facing Scott.

"We couldn't get to Scott. We're going to have to—"

Derek's frown deepened. "What happened?" Allison didn't wait for an answer and went straight for the staircase, narrowly missing her father's arm trying to hold her bag and ignoring Derek and Isaac calling her name. She just went straight to the door with claw marks running through the wood, ruining the varnish.

Allison gulped and slowly inched forward, pushing the door open only to see the entire room trashed like a robber swept in to clean the place of its valuables or a mini-tornado came in and turned the room upside down but the one detail that stood out from the rest of the rest was Scott, sitting in the corner with blood pooling around him, shaking with what seemed like fear.

" _Allison_!" footsteps sounded as she heard her father call out her name. Immediately, she turned to look at the door and the source of the sound when Scott tensed up. It was only then when Allison realized that she needed to talk to Scott alone so she closed the door shut, seemingly just in time, too, because just when the lock clicked, there was loud banging, fists rapping on the wooden board that divided her from her friends and her father.

Looking around the room, Allison's eyes landed on a wooden brown dresser and pushed it towards the door that would hopefully stop her werewolf friends with an unfair advantage, because of their supernatural strength, from barging in.

Finally, when Allison felt like the only way Isaac and Derek could get inside the room was by breaking off the wall, she turned to face Scott who was shying away from her. "Hey, Scott," she held her hand in front as if to show that she wasn't approaching him like how her father did. "What happened?" she asked softly, slowly going around the bed that was turned upside down with claw marks at the stubby, wooden legs.

Scott was breathing abnormally fast and worried Allison. "I don't, I can't—" a grimace appeared on his pale face and she realized that his complexion, for a natural Californian, was disturbingly colorless. Seeing the blood, Allison would have contributed the paleness from blood loss but something told her that there was something more to it, something that probably went along the lines of sleep deprivation considering there were dark and somewhat large rings under his eyes.

"What's happening? Do you want me to call Stiles or your Mom?" Scott immediately shook his head, waving his hands in the air furiously but Allison was just tempted to call Melissa even more especially after seeing his hands caked in black and red blood.

"No, not them. I don't—I don't want to worry them. Please don't call them, Allison." Seeing Scott's skin peeking over the torn apart and blood-soaked shirt wasn't helping his case but as much as she wanted to call for Melissa, she had left her phone inside her car and mentally chided herself for not telling Isaac to call for help from Stiles.

Allison couldn't just yell out to her father, Derek, Deaton, or Isaac to call Melissa and Stiles because she needed to get Scott to open up to her and let her help him but he won't let her if she wouldn't respect his wishes, so she grudgingly nodded. "Alright, I won't call them." Scott sighed before he swayed dozily, obviously dizzy before he winced in pain and Allison realized that if she didn't act soon, he would bleed out to death.

"Thanks, Allison," he muttered under his breath, almost resembling a whisper as Allison stood up to look at the door leading to the bathroom. Quickly, she ran straight towards the medical cabinet and searched for anything she could use to stop the bleeding but there was nothing. Pacing around inside the bathroom, Allison heard a rough coughing spell from Scott and paled when she saw blood staining his lips, a sign that he would soon be choking on his own blood.

Shutting her eyes closed, Allison took a moment to breathe and collect her thoughts so she could patch Scott up like she did when he fought against the Alpha Pack, and when she opened her eyes, her gaze landed on a white water heater.

Grabbing the kettle, Allison filled it halfway with water from the tap and quickly turned it on, seeing the blue light shining telling her that it was beginning to heat before she ran out of the bathroom and went straight towards a cabinet, seeing numerous articles of shirts and pants held by classy wooden hangers and a collection of shoes sitting in the ground. Looking around, Allison found a drawer and spotted the needles and threads, grabbing them as fast as she could when she heard the kettle whistle.

Going back to where Scott was while carrying the needle and thread in one hand and the kettle in another, Allison's breath had hitched in her throat when his head had slumped to a side. Her eyes widened at the sight, her mouth hanging open. "Scott," she patted his shoulder, hoping to get some kind of reaction from her ex-boyfriend, she would have even welcomed a soft groan telling her to get away from him but there was nothing.

Realizing that she has little time left, she sterilized the threaded needle with the hot water and ripped Scott's shirt open, gasping at the deep wound and the amount of blood he's lost. At that point, Allison realized that she definitely needed to call Melissa because if Scott didn't have an anchor to get his werewolf side in check and heal himself, he's going to need at least 3 pints of blood to make up for all that he's lost.

"Hey, Scott, stay with me. Come on, stay with me now," Allison gently padded the area around Scott's wound and earned a soft whimper from him. Allison's eyes widened as a sigh of relief escaped her lips when she finally got a response from him, though it was a pained grunt, a response nonetheless that she was thankful to have because that way she knew that Scott was alive.

"It's—" Scott coughed roughly, his body shaking as blood glistened on his lips. "— _hard_." He finished, inhaling sharply when Allison finally began to work on the wound, closing it up so Scott won;t have to lose more blood than he's already lost. "Feel so sleepy, Allison," tears welled in her eyes as blood continued to drip from Scott's lips. "I don't feel. . . _good_ ," he had trouble finishing that last word as Allison finally cut the thread, a small sigh escaping her lips.

Suddenly, when Allison was still looking around the room to try to see something suitable for gauze or a bandage, she noticed that Scott was facing down and something pulled horribly at her stomach that told her he wasn't breathing and he wasn't awake. "Scott?" her voice almost broke as her hair framed her face, her breathing hitched and her mouth hung open. "Scott?" she called for him one more time before her fingers reached for his neck, trying to find a pulse.

Allison paled when she couldn't feel a pulse.

So, with a flick of the wrist and a change in positions, Allison was on top of Scott, her hands planted firmly on his chest in an effort to resuscitate him. However, a part of Allison wanted to just stop, to let Scott die because he's been through so much and she always knew that death was relatively peaceful; it was the transition that was troublesome. She's been through a lot, to say the least, but what she's gone through would probably pale in comparison as to what Scott's probably experienced.

But the thoughts flickered away when she saw Scott's blank face and realized she couldn't bare to see the boy she loves being lowered six feet under the ground. Allison knew that she wouldn't be able to stand the hurt that would appear in Stiles' face when he finds out that his best friend, his brother, has died because she gave up.

So, Allison continued to try re-start Scott's heart. "Come on, Scott, haven't you heard? You've got yourself a date with Kira and her family?" stopping to check and see if there was a pulse, Allison grimaced when she felt nothing. "You like her, don't you?" it felt weird for her to say that out loud, to admit to herself that Scott had begun to like another girl besides her. "Well, you have a date tonight, you sure you want to pass on that?" Allison checked again for a heart beat but there was nothing when suddenly, Scott sat up, gasping for air.

Allison stepped back, giving Scott some space and air, watching his pale face reflect the light with a thin sheet of sweat covering him. His face was still abnormally pale. "No. Not Kira. Don't want to hurt her," Allison raised her brow at Scott and wondered how in the world he would come to hurt the woman he would eventually move on with.

Allison remembered the time she eavesdropped on Scott and her father's conversation and overheard that everything he's ever done was to make sure she was safe because he loved her so she began to wonder, if Scott loved this girl, why would he be afraid of hurting her?

"But Kira's your new anchor, you could never hurt her, remember?" Allison tilted her head on a side, smiling, trying to get him to remember that he's never hurt her. At least not intentionally.

Scott shook his head. "No. Derek said that whatever kind of bond I have with her isn't right, that maybe it's the side effects from the Nemeton talking or something and maybe, he's right." Scott pointed at the wall behind her. Only then did Allison notice the blood spread on the wall, the writing seemingly clear now. "Peter said that those are atomic numbers, that it spelled out Kira. What if I'm going to hurt her?" the broken look in his eyes tugged on Allison's heart.

Maybe it was, and maybe it wasn't.

Allison and Scott, they took too much labels and they stopped for so many. "What if numbers are just numbers?" she sat up straight and placed a hand on his shoulder. "Maybe, Scott, it doesn't mean anything." Scott stared at her, confused, but she gave a tight smile. "Listen, Scott, you like her, don't you? You wouldn't ever want to hurt her?"

Scott shook his head quickly. "No. Of course not. I just want to get to know her." A part of Allison was thankful that Scott didn't say the L word.

"So, how about I get you to that date?" Allison offered, helping Scott up to his feet.

Scoot groaned, probably from the pain and maybe from something else. "Derek's got me on lockdown. I won't be getting out anytime soon, especially not anywhere near Kira after Peter got him so riled up."

Allison helped Scott to the bed before she pushed the dresser away from the door. "How about this: I'll get Stiles to help you escape but you'll have to meet me in the woods tonight before you go on your, er, date with Kira." Allison offered her hand when she finished pushing the dresser away, whispering it low to make sure that the other werewolves inside the loft wouldn't hear her.

Scott looked skeptical. "What if I lose control? Kira's not my anchor. I have nothing to keep me grounded to humanity, nothing to keep me from hurting her and her family." That was when Allison remembered what she had brought to the loft with her.

As her eyes scanned the room, Allison found the small velvet box. "What if I told you that you could anchor yourself instead?" Scott raised a brow before she opened the box and showed the watch.

"I thought I lost this when. . ." Scott trailed off, a small smile finally appearing on his face. "This is what you took from Deaton the other day, wasn't it?" Allison shrugged and handed the velvet box to Scott, watching him as she slipped it on. Offering his hand to her, Scott smiled his usual cheeky grin. "Deal."

* * *

 ** _So, haven't updated in a long time and I probably won't be updating soon either because today is my last day of freedom. Yeah. I'm going back to school._**

 ** _So, this chapter may not seem much—it's horrible, I know—but this chapter will be pretty important plot-wise so keep an eye on some of the particular details here._**

 ** _And, since I won't be updating in a while, I figured that I have to give you something in exchange for that. A sneak peek's a fair trade, is it not? Well, there you have it. This particular chapter will be Allison centric and um, to all the Scallison shippers, this is basically it:_**

 _The music was blaring and the paint was distracting but Allison only had her eyes on the man in front of her. It was like they had their own little world and that they were alone. No one else but them. "Why. But Kira is your anchor, I mean, being with her makes you in control of your wer—" Allison was promptly cut off with Scott's lips planted on her own._

 _"When will you understand that I will put you first?" Allison could only stare at Scott, not knowing that a tear streamed through her cheek until he wiped it with his thumb. "This is the last time I'm ever going to let you cry," and yet another tear fell from her eyes as she looked away despite Scott's hands cupping her face._

 _"But why—"_

 _Allison was cut off again, this time when Scott gently turned her face to his. "Because it's you. It's **always** been you. I love you, Allison. Allison Argent, and I will love you until," he paused, looking at her eyes, seemingly lost. "Until. . .the end of my days." His voice grew firm as doubt was erased from his tone. "Until the end of time. Always."_


	11. CHAPTER X - SCOTT

**SUCCUMB**

 **CHAPTER X - SCOTT**

* * *

As the Jeep sped through humps and bumps, following the trail that lead all the way to the look-out point where so many crucial turning points happened, Scott looked out the foggy window and watched the raindrops race its way down, trying to forget the shouting that came from Derek from the argument with Peter back when he was still at the loft, locking himself up inside a room as he almost died from losing blood.

" _I'm telling you, Derek, something's not right with your little golden boy,_ " Peter argued, unusually calm but his tone still held this underlying intention that seemed to crawl under Scott's skin, made him uncomfortable whenever he'd hear Peter hiss. " _Just let me take care of our little, young beta, eh?_ " with a shaky breath of air, Scott knew that he didn't trust Peter with whatever he wanted to happen or to do to him.

Scott remembered leaning against the wooden door and listening to the argument all the while trying to tell the scent of Derek's chemo-signal apart from the whiff of his blood that heavily hung in the air around him. Placing his ear against the wooden surface, Scott closed his eyes and breathed in deep, already seeing how his former alpha was trying his best not to burst and explode. " _I'm not letting you experiment with Scott! Not when he's obviously sick and needs hel—_ " there was another hiss from Peter, promptly cutting Derek off.

Scott could see Peter rapidly pointing towards the ceiling or the staircase. " _Not so loud now, nephew!_ " Scott remembered staring at his hands caked with blood, raising them in front of his face. " _Your blinded by your sense of responsibility, your righteousness and while it's always been a redeeming quality of yours, I suggest you listen to good Uncle Peter when I tell you that he can **hear**!_ " Scott closed his eyes and an image of Peter raising a finger to Derek's lips invaded his mind.

Suddenly, the Jeep rocked when Stiles had hit a small bump in the trail, probably a stone or a piece of wood.

Scott was jarred back to reality, remembering the living room inside the loft and how there was blood pooling around the spot where Derek found him. Twisting around, Scott winced in pain and mentally scolded himself for moving around so often and lifted his shirt to check on his wounds. He sighed in relief, however, when he's found that he's healing quite fast although he wonders why there were still claw marks that refused to heal.

Scott only noticed then and there that the Jeep had stopped moving and that he and Stiles had reached the look-out point where they once hid Jackson and met up with Deucalion and almost battled Peter back then. " _Whoa_ ," Scott turned to his side only to see Stiles staring at his wounds, his best friend's mouth hung open in what seemed like shock. "Where'd you get those? And why aren't they healing?" Scott shook his head and lowered his shirt.

"I don't know. Last time I had wounds like these that wouldn't heal fast was way back then when we were still dealing with Deucalion." Stiles' eyes narrowed at the red and inflamed area of his wounds.

Beside him, Stiles looked like he was about to say something really important or that he was about to tell him off for being way too lax when a loud and ear-piercing sneeze reverberated through the walls of the Jeep. " _Acho-o-o_!" Scott closed his eyes shut and his hands immediately flew towards his ears, trying to block out the sound but it was too late and his best friend was far too near. "Sorry," Stiles muttered, his voice sounding different probably because his nose was clogged.

With ringing and his blood pounding in his ear, Scott blinked twice before looking at his best friend and fished a piece of tissue from his jacket, handing it over to Stiles. "Allergies?" he asked, just handing the whole pack of tissue when Stiles shook his head furiously and pointed to the glove compartment. Raising a brow, Scott pulled on the knob and the first thing he noticed was the orange bottle of pills that sat alongside a white one.

Grabbing one, Scott attempted to breathe in the scent of the pills but his head just hurt in the end, placing it back inside the glove compartment where he found the bottles in.

"What are those for?" Stiles turned around to face him completely and showed the arm sling and the heavy bandages that covered him.

Scott's eyes narrowed at his best friend's injury and wondered how it came to that. "Apparently, the wound was infected with, uhm, _foreign contaminants_ , yeah that's what they called it and it supposedly made me sick with a fever," Stiles looked over his shoulder and pointed at a wallet in the back seat that looked oddly familiar, and while it should to Scott considering it was his best friend's, it struck him in an odd way that he couldn't quite explain the feeling.

Suddenly, Scott had this thought rush through his head of 2x2 pictures of his best friend and with the scent of Adderall mixed with Red Bull and duct tape, not knowing why it happened. He just shook his head at the thought and dismissed it, choosing to forget about it.

Jarring himself back to reality, Scott saw Stiles looking at him weirdly. "Yeah, uhm, nevermind, I'll just get it myself," Stiles struggled with the arm sling. Blinking rapidly, Scott shook his head and his arm extended way back to reach for the wallet. "Uhm, thanks buddy," Stiles grinned slowly, reaching out for the wallet when Scott spotted something on his best friend's palm. It was like this faded black powder.

"Hey," Scott took a closer look at the strange powder residue on his best friend's palm. "What's this? Where'd you get this?" Stiles' eyes followed his gaze and soon, they were both staring at what seemed like faded dust.

"I don't know," Stiles rubbed his thumb against the palm of his hand, trying to clear his skin before looking at it, satisfied to see that it was gone. "It looked insect-y. Maybe a moth, maybe?" Scott didn't know why but he shook his head and stared blankly ahead, remembering a dark room and dim, flickering lights that eventually faded away. He wanted to remember where it was, or why he kept having these recollections of places he didn't know his hand collided against the cold glass of the Jeep's window.

Suddenly, a memory of him staring outside a window that looked like the hospital's cafeteria resurfaced in his mind. The sight of stars twinkling in the distance and seeing through a somewhat smudged glass reminded him of a memory he didn't knew he had. His head just hurt badly and he didn't understand why he suddenly felt pain or why he knew his best friend was wrong.

"It's from a _firefly_ , Stiles. I think you killed a firefly."

Scott corrected his best friend almost automatically, staring straight outside the window, his mind filled with the image or a vision of fireflies seeping through the cracks of the Nemeton's tree stump. Beside him, though, Stiles scoffed and looked skeptical. " _Firefly_?" Stiles echoed his words and Scott could easily read his best friend's chemo-signal, reliving the terror when Jennifer and the Alpha pack were still around. "Does that mean anything? I mean, did you see it glow or something—"

A small chuckle escaped Scott's lips when he saw his best friend over nothing. "Dude, _calm down_." Stiles gave him this wary look before stopping, blinking rapidly. "Maybe a firefly is just a firefly and not a sign that we have a homicidal psychopath who's out to murder us." Stiles shot him a skeptical look but he just shrugged because it didn't feel like it. It was hard to explain but he had this gut feeling that whatever it was bugging him constantly or that kept pulling at his stomach wasn't some psychopath whose convoluted plan for revenge included killing parents and virgins and teachers.

Stiles' eyes were still narrowed down at him as he continued to look out the window, watching his breathing fog up the glass. "There is no ' _just fireflies_ ' with us, Scott! I'm telling you, something's wrong!" his best friend tried to argue but they both knew that it was a losing case and soon, Stiles just gave up and shut up.

After a detailed conversation about the Game of Throne's Khaleesi's awesomeness, trading a series of cheats for BioShock Infinite, and about a dozen sneezing from Stiles, Scott's phone finally vibrated and rang this catchy but subtle ringtone that told him it was from Allison (each of his pack members have a distinct ringtone to save time and confusion).

Fishing his phone out of his pocket, Scott tapped on the screen and typed his password, the dim lights growing brighter into a more brilliant shade of frozen white pixels, showing the message bubble from Allison. "It's from Allison," Scott ignored the snort from his best friend that probably translated to something along the lines of "duh" or "obviously". Squinting his eyes, Scott immediately looked outside the window before pressing his ear against the glass, trying to catch the familiar purr of his bike's engine in the distance.

A smile reached his face when he heard the sound of off-road wheels rolling against the dirt and the smooth maneuvering through the trail and some slopes. It wasn't long until there were yellow beams of light streaming through the forest.

Fumbling to get the seat belt off, Scott managed to open the car door and get out of the Jeep without actually damaging the vehicle— _"Man, be careful with the Jeep!" Scott ignored his best friend's whining_ —or injuring himself in the process, Stiles following suit only to appear standing by his side, his breathing much more noticeable because of the sniffles his clogged nose gave off.

After what seemed like an eternity, Scott's bike appeared from the forest, the familiar two-tone paint job giving him this feeling that maybe, _just maybe_ , everything will turn out fine and he won't have to deal with anything supernatural or world-threatening or both anytime tonight.

Allison swerved the motorcycle, doing this kick-ass drift that sent dirt flying in the air, hitting Stiles' Jeep in the process. Scott suppressed the urge to laugh at his best friend's reaction as different sizes of dirt varying from little spots to what seemed like the entire content of a 1 liter ice cream tub splattered on the baby blue metal frame of the car. "Geez, Allison," Stiles started when Allison took the helmet she had on. "Couldn't you just, I don't know, stop it without trashing my Jeep? I mean, seriously!" Stiles pointed at his beloved Jeep sharply. "My Jeep's been through so much already—regular alphas," Stiles looked at him pointedly. "Psychotic alphas, homicidal aunts, deranged grandfathers, aquaphobic photographer-slash-stalkers, a lizard with issues, a werewolf who's desperately in need of a mani-pedi, the list goes on!"

Allison ignored Stiles' protests and gave him a firm and steady look, her gaze landing on his best friend's face. "Hello to you, too, _Rudolph_ ," Scott could tell that, from the chemo-signal he picked up, that Stiles was hardly amused by Allison's dry remark as she reached out for her backpack and produced a helmet, tossing it in his way. Catching his helmet without a problem, Scott embraced his best friend tightly, suddenly feeling a bit woozy.

"In my defense," Scott's noticed Stiles' chest vibrate as his best friend started, defending himself with a nasally voice that almost resembled an extremely racist French accent, "I am _not_ a floating, 400 pound reindeer with the magical ability to circle the entire planet to deliver gifts because I am, hard as it is to admit, am simply a human in our wonderful _werewolf-slash-supernatural_ dominated pack."

Snorting, Allison threw his best friend a look when he pulled away from his best friend's embrace, suddenly feeling the cold wind of the preserve cool him again. "Oh, are you really?" Stiles ignored Allison and just scoffed, going back to his Jeep and starting up the engine, letting the sound reverb through his ears when Scott realized that he was tugging on the end of his sleeve and pulled him towards the motorcycle. "You ready?"

Allison tossed him a look and he nodded in response, riding in the back despite his earlier protests of actually driving himself to his dinner date with Kira and her parents but both his ex-girlfriend and best friend were pretty adamant and firm on their decision that he shouldn't drive himself. Scott knew that they meant well but he couldn't help but think that it's too damn much.

But he didn't say a word after the decision was settled. Scott didn't complain and he just followed what they suggested he do—to be chauffeured to his date to a girl he wants to get to know by his ex-girlfriend.

Scott shook his head as he slipped the helmet on. ' _The things I do if only for the people I love_.' He thought to himself, letting Allison get on the bike first before jumping on the back seat, clinging to one of the side handles hidden beneath the cushion.

Exhaling, Scott caught the scent of Allison's lemon-scented shampoo and it was compelling, it made him feel safe and comfortable. In a way, it reminded him of his best friend, how catching his scent made every feeling of worry and trouble that weighed heavy on him vanish. When the engine purred to life again, the bike surged forward and the wind had hit his skin, giving him the familiar sensation of riding when he realized that the scent of the people he vowed to protect reminded him of home.

Listening to Allison's steady and calm heartbeat, Scott made a mental promise to himself, swearing it on his life that he'll protect his home, that he won't let anyone try to take it away from him.

Tightening his grip on the side-handles that kept him from tumbling off the bike, Scott watched the scene change from thick trees and forests to houses and beautiful lights that illuminated the streets of the higher end residential area of Beacon Hills, the motorcycle eventually stopping in front a modern chic house that looked newly built. Slowly, Allison dismounted off the bike while Scott took off his helmet, remaining on his bike as breathing in the familiar scent that came from the house.

Without a doubt, he knew that it was Kira.

Suddenly, despite the great start between them just earlier when Allison picked him up back when he was with Stiles in the preserve, Scott felt this thick tension in the air that was far too prominent to ignore or to set aside and pretend like it's nothing. " _So_ ," Allison began awkwardly, drawing out the word as she avoided his gaze and the house they stood in front of. "Here we are, I guess." She finished lamely, obviously avoiding an equally awkward conversation.

Her chemo-signals started to get more prominent and obvious and Scott mentally scolded himself for not catching on earlier. He knows what it was like, for the person he loves to fall for another person, and even though he promised himself that he'd never hurt her in any way, he knew she's hurting by bringing him over to have a dinner with the Yukimura family.

Setting the motorcycle helmet aside, Scott gave her a lopsided smile before giving her a warm and solid embrace, taking her into his arms. Allison released a small breath of air, something that resembled a gasp of surprise, like she didn't expect for him to taker her into his arms. "Thank you," Scott breathed out, taking Allison's hands into his, warming up his palm as their skin made contact. "Thank you for helping me get here, helping me stay in control—thank you, for everything."

Even with his openness, Allison still refused to meet his gaze. Scott withdrew his hands and when he was about to give up, when he exhaled all of a sudden and his foot began to inch towards the door, he heard her heart jump. Scott knew that she was about to do something or say something.

"Allison?" Scott asked, his voice a hopeful tone.

Allison, at first, didn't say anything and she still avoided his gaze but slowly looked at him in soft(?) and somewhat sad wonder that made his heart beat in a way he didn't quite. There was a short moment where she just looked at him before she smiled and nodded. Allison placed her free hand on his shoulder and looked at him, in the eye, and nodded before pointing at the door across the lawn. "It's okay," she muttered to herself, and while Scott knew that he had super-hearing, he thought that if she whispered that any lower, he may not have picked it up.

Tilting his head to a side, Scott knew that he had confusion written all over his face. "What is?"

" _This_." Allison looked at the door and Scott's smarts caught up to him. "But I want you to know that I'm okay with it." She had this look that told him she approved of whatever he was planning to start with Kira, that she was okay with him moving on.

The sudden realization that she was now letting him go took the oxygen, the very air from his lungs. It was something he'd been expecting, with all the hinting she gave and all the encouragement she's been pushing in his way for him to be around other girls, but when he's connected the dots between her giving him his mother's watch and her driving him all the way to Kira's house. . . it weighed heavy like an iron anvil that's been dropped on his chest.

"Allison," he couldn't say anything else other than her name that he breathed out, his expression probably said a whole lot more and a part of him wished that she's a werewolf so that she can know what his chemo-signal was like. So, without a word, Scott took her into his arms for one more time, taking his time before letting her go.

But then, Allison shooed him away, not with malice, but with a smile on her face and pushed him towards the door. " _Go_ , Scott. Have fun. By the time you finish this, your Mom's shift is over so you just give her a call and she'll pick you up." Scott raised a brow at this and realized that Allison's gone through so much since this morning just to plan the whole dinner date. And to think that she went to school after visiting him in the morning to deal with his crisis!

So he went to the door, although somewhat reluctant, Scott kept looking behind his shoulder and every time he did, Allison would shoot him a smile and raised her thumbs up, whispering small words of encouragement before she slipped on the helmet and rode away, leaving him alone in front of the door.

Focusing on what's to come ahead, Scott raised his hand and knocked on the wide, wooden door, hearing shuffling feet and ceramic plates being set on a table. A few moments later, Mr. Yukimura opened the door and smiled at him widely. "Scott!" his History teacher ushered him inside. "I'm glad you could make it!" the middle-aged man said, leading him to the dining room where the table was set and where Kira and an older woman was.

"Hey, Kira." Scott smiled at Kira though she responded differently, in a way he'd never expect her to react: Kira narrowed her eyes at him before turning away from him completely. "Okay." He finished lamely, just turning to smile at the older woman sitting across Kira who was probably her Mom.

"Ah, Scott! I'm so pleased that you could make it to dinner! My name's _Noshiko_. Noshiko Yukimura." Scott realized that, at the moment, there was this complete parallelism to his dinners with Allison's family with this current dinner date with the Yukimuras. The one hostile with him, usually— _with his Argent family dinners_ —are Allison's relatives and here, it was different because Kira was the one estranged and cold towards him. "Now, Scott, have you ever had sushi before? Because my husband, Ken, is a superb chef."

Then, he caught a scent of something scaly and soon, beside him, Kira groaned, whined even. "Guys, come on. We were supposed to have lasagna tonight." Mr. Yukimura just smiled when he set this big plate in the middle of the table, on it was a whole collection of sushi.

"Kira, shouldn't we try to impress the young man who saved you from being a coyote's dinner? The least we could do is give him a more _unique_ meal for tonight?" Mr. Yukimura gave his daughter a knowing look before throwing another smile at him. By this point, Scott felt uneasy because he had no idea what was prepared for dinner. "Okay, so we have _hamachi_ , _uni_ , _ikura_ , _hirame_ , and—" Scott cut his History teacher off, the last sushi looking familiar to him.

" _Tamago_." Scott answered simply, leaving Mr. Yukimura and his wife silent, probably a bit shocked by the fact that he knew. "And that smell. . .is that _gyūdon_?" Scott picked up a scent he's never smelled before and yet it was so familiar to him, and it's not familiar in the way like he passed through a Japanese restaurant, but familiar in the sense that he's had that for a long time.

Across the table, the older woman smiled, her chemo-signal showing off that she was impressed but it also hid something that Scott couldn't quite pin-point. "Scott, I see that you're familiar with a bit of Japanese cuisine. As a native Californian, I'm sure you've eaten at pretty impressive Japanese sushi restaurants."

Scott shook his head, smiling sheepishly before remembering Stiles and his best friend's addiction to anime and video games. "No, actually. I haven't eaten sushi before and ah," he reached out for the back of his neck and awkwardly tried to scratch away an imaginary itch. "The reason why I know some sushi is because of, well, video games and anime." Mrs. Yukimura raised a brow at his answer as if it was full of flaws and lacking.

"And what game is it, exactly?"

Remembering the color pink and white, Scott tilted his head to a side and pointed to the kitchen. "Cooking Mama, actually," he laughed awkwardly before Kira's mom cleared her throat, her gaze looking quite intimidating when Mr. Yukimura smiled at him, gesturing for him to take one of the sushi rolls.

Grabbing the chop sticks by his side, Scott carefully took the tamago from the plate to his mouth, tasting the scrambled egg on top of the rice. "So," Scott started again, awkwardly, trying to spark a conversation with Kira who remained uninterested in him, or distant. "I heard that you guys moved here from New York."

Noshiko took a sip from her wine glass. "I have family ties here in Beacon Hills. Several generations, as a matter of fact." Scott nodded, imagining a Japanese family here after World War II when he turned to his side and slowly studied Mr. Yukimura and realized that he didn't quite fit the bill.

"Yukimura's Japanese, right?" Scott asked, realizing all of a sudden that Mr. Yukimura looked quite different

Mr. Yukimura chuckled, a good-natured smile spreading across his History teacher's face when he looked lovingly at his wife and held her hand, weaving their fingers together. "Yes, it is Japanese and yes, I am actually Korean. When my wife, Noshiko, and I married, I took her name as she was the only surviving member of her family." Mr. Yukimura explained it like it was a lesson, sporting the same enthusiastic look he had whenever he would talk about the subject.

Scott's hand inched towards the chopsticks' base and he held it both together, using them to get himself another tamago. "What about taking both names? Hyphening or double-barreling?" he suggested after chewing and swallowing the sushi.

Mr. Yukimura opened his mouth to answer when his wife cut him off, giving her husband's hand a gentle squeeze. "Soy sauce for your sushi, Scott?" Noshiko offered when he took the _hamachi_ from the center plate. Raising his gaze to meet Mrs. Yukimura's, he nodded politely and smiled before she went off to the kitchen just behind her and poured some soy sauce into a small plate, the powerful scent of seasoning filling the air.

Standing up, Scott met Mrs. Yukimura in the middle and offered to take the dish, taking the small black bowl-thing into his hands, the over-powering scent almost tackling him.

When all of them sat down around the table, Scott drizzled a bit of soy sauce on the fish before swallowing it whole, the taste of vinegar, rice, fish, and soy sauce mixing together with another binding ingredient that he couldn't quite determine. "Quite knowledgeable about sushi are you, Scott?" Noshiko raised a brow before mirroring what he just did and Scott wondered to himself how on Earth he knew that soy sauce was only meant for the fish and not for the entire sushi itself.

"Cooking Mama?" Scott answered sheepishly, completely unsure of what exactly he said until Noshiko cleared her throat with a cough and shifted in her position, straightening her back.

"To answer your question, Scott, my husband and I were married in Japan where the law says that the couple must say the same name, to belong in the same _koseki_. The lineage of the name is actually quite unique—" Mrs. Yukimura was cut off when another groan was heard from his side. Scott turned around to see Kira burying her face in her hands, embarrassment reeking off her.

"Guys," Kira gave an exasperated look, directing it at her parents. "This is a dinner, a supposedly _normal-lasagna-night_ dinner. Let's try to not turn it into a History lesson," across Scott, Noshiko gave Kira a somewhat sharp look and he could hear the older woman's heart pound oddly.

Still well-composed, Noshiko narrowed her eyes at her daughter. "Kira. You should be proud of your heritage." Scott noticed that Ken, who sat beside his wife, acting somewhat like a passive audience as the mother and daughter exchanged looks, nodded and looked at him as he took a spoonful of the _gyūdon_ in front of him, his stomach suddenly feeling queasy all of a sudden.

Everything seemed to slow down, like an out-of-place slow-motion sequence in the movies. "You mother's right, Kira. It was a profound honor to join your mother's family." Ken said, his words drawing out slowly as Scott attempted a smile and tried to nod back but there was this sudden overwhelming sense of pain that clouded his mind and blurred his vision, his throat constricting, his hands growing clammy and his forehead probably decorated with beads of sweat.

"Scott?" Kira's voice sound distorted and her words were drawn out long, his vision blurred as his senses slowly numbed down, how he couldn't feel her hands shaking him awake as his head slowly and dangerously swayed towards the table. Across him, though, Ken and Noshiko watched him calmly and his throat itched and his chest tightened, his brows furrowing as sweat trickled down his face. A gut feeling told Scott that they had something to do with this.

"What did you do?" Scott asked, the somewhat recognizable faces of Kira's parents were now blurred and smudged in his vision before he blacked out entirely, the last coherent word he heard was from Kira, asking what the hell was going on.

* * *

Scott heard the faucet running and water dripping from the sink. Soon, his heavy eyelids opened as his back ached in discomfort. He wondered how he slept because even in his worst nights of sleeping, he'd never actually had a back this sore when he remembered he never did come back home from his dinner with the Kira and her parents.

Opening his eyes completely, Scott was momentarily blinded by the bright light that hung above the dining table and soon realized why his back ached like it's been through hell and back. "What happened?" he asked, shaking his head as he tried to stand up. Key word being tried seeing as he swayed, still dizzy and his head aching like a train had passed through him. Then, Scott felt hands aiding his shoulder, helping him up and taking him to a sofa he had no recollection of passing through or even seeing because he was in and out of consciousness.

After a few moments, his clammy hands was met with something cool to the touch. Forcing his eyes open, Scott looked down and saw Ken helping him drink from a glass, the water so cold that the cup was condensation. "Here, Scott, drink up. It'll help wash the wolfsbane and the poison away and ease the headache." Just wanting to lose the headache, Scott brought the cold glass to his dry and cracked lips, relishing on the cool and smooth sensation as the water washed down his throat.

" _Poison_?" Scott sputtered after he finished drinking the cold water.

Surely enough, his vision cleared and his headache, as promised, eased up when he remembered something that his History teacher, Ken, say.

" _Letharia vulpina_."

Jumping on his seat, all of a sudden alert, Scott realized that his hands were tied shut with numerous zip ties and he doesn't have the strength to just rip it apart, to free himself from what seemed like something so weak, from something that should be weak compared to his strength. "What did you do to me? How do you know that I'm a werewolf?" Scott asked, mustering his strength and energy into trying to break free from the 20 or so zip ties.

Ken rose from the ground as Scott took in his surroundings. He wasn't locked up inside some sort of reinforced basement that he imagined every hunter family to have. In fact, he was in a living room still inside Kira's house because he saw the same street lamp where Allison had dropped him off, remembering still the light that bounced off of his motorcycle, the beam of yellow light that highlighted the green paint accents on his bike.

"Easy now, Scott. We aren't here to hurt you." Noshiko's voice sounded and Scott's head turned towards the source. Looking around, he saw Mrs. Yukimura with her daughter, Kira's face stricken with worry and another thing he couldn't quite read. "We just wanted to know if you're a friend or a foe." Scott's brows furrowed and he started sputtering, much like Stiles.

"Enemy? Can't you just ask someone _without_ drugging them with wolfsbane and whatever it was you used that could potentially kill them?" hearing a swish of air and a rise of pulse, Scott turned to another side, his History teacher suddenly in his area of vision.

"Scott, my wife and I are truly sorry that we had to do this but," Ken looked around nervously and gave a sincere and sympathetically apologetic look that almost would have won Scott over. _Almost_. "You have to understand that we _had_ to make sure." Scott's eyes furrowed in confusion as he took the words from his History teacher and glanced at Kira and Noshiko, wondering what the hell they had to make sure of.

"What? Make sure of what?" Scott asked, his sweat-soaked back starting to cool down and dry up.

Noshiko cleared her throat. "That you're not the enemy, that you're not the _nogitsune_." Scott's eyes involuntarily widened at the term, and while he didn't know why, his insides churned at the word, at the very thought. With the lack of an available answer, Scott passed it off as a feeling of _not_ wanting to make another enemy to hunt him down until kingdom comes.

Opening his mouth to ask a question, the look of worry on Kira's face disappeared and quickly morphed into something that resembled anger or confusion. He wasn't quite sure on what it was but all he knew was that she was upset and he didn't know why. Scott watched as Kira stormed off, ignoring her parents attempts to call her back and apologize or something but in the end, Ken and Noshiko gave up and focused on him instead.

"What's a _nogitsune_?" Noshiko stiffened at the mention of the word. Scott could practically hear her blood pressure rise, her hair stand up, and her skin erupt in goosebumps. "And why would you think that I'm one?" Scott connected the dots that the _nogitsune_ wasn't a person, it was a type of supernatural being much like a werewolf or something like it. He tried to tell himself that logic was the reason why he sorted it out, why he knew the _nogitsune_ wasn't a person and not the curling of his insides.

Not the voices that whispered in his ear.

For a while, Scott would think that Noshiko didn't hear him because her gaze was fixed on the ceiling, probably where Kira was standing at right now. "Scott, do you know what a _kitsune_ is?" Scott actually never heard of it before but somehow, it rang familiar in his ear and he knew that if he nodded, he couldn't pin the blame on Cooking Mama so he shrugged, shaking his head even though he knew looked at the ceiling as well, staring at the light and how it illuminated the room.

 _Elemental_ , Scott thought to himself before removing his gaze from the drop light fixed on the ceiling and turned to face Noshiko as she had this firm look on her face.

"Kitsunes are elemental supernatural beings. Our kind," Scott didn't even flinch at the word Noshiko so blatantly stated, "we take our powers from the elements of nature, of our surroundings and as a result, our powers reflect on the element we specialize in." Scott didn't miss the moment when the drop-light flickered and somehow, a hunch told him, that Kira was involved and that her powers were linked to either light or the electricity.

Looking around, Scott realized that the house had so much nature accents that he mentally chided himself for not picking it up earlier when Noshiko pointed to an old Japanese scroll fixed on the wall, something that looked like it was there for aesthetic purposes but then he realized that it was there for a deeper and more complicated reason.

Scott knew that Ken and Noshiko noticed his gaze on the scroll, on how he was fixed on the piece of paper yellowed with age so Mr. Yukimura walked over to where he was staring and stood beside the Japanese scroll painting. "Scott, do you know what animal this scroll is featuring?" he shook his head, not really sure if he should tell Kira's parents what he thinks the red, black, and white strokes of paint would represent.

"I don't know. A red panda, maybe?" that was the first thing that rang in Scott's mind when he saw the red paint but there was this gut feeling that told him he was wrong. _Besides_ , he thought to himself as he watched Mr. Yukimura's lips purse and form a thin line, _red pandas are found in China_.

"No, Scott. This," Mr. Yukimura pointed at the collection of strokes as if it was his lecture at school, "is a fox." Scott stared at the painting as if something was about to happen, like maybe the drawing would mysteriously and magically come to life. "In my country, Korea, we call these creatures as _gumihos_ , or in Naruto, the nine-tailed fox." Scott stared at Noshiko, half-expecting her to reveal her nine tails when he realized that the supernatural world isn't as black-and-white as Hollywood portrays it to be.

It was so much more complicated than that and Scott fixed his gaze at the scroll again, this time noticing the black dowel at the bottom of the hanging scroll, realizing that it wasn't at all metal, wood, or plastic. Squinting his eyes at the bottom part of the scroll, he realized that it was something else, something more supernatural in nature.

"Very good, Scott, you caught along fast." Noshiko's voice sounded inside the room. "That dowel on there happens to be the 5th of my 9 tails," Scott now ignored the calligraphy scrawled in the middle of the scroll and focused on Noshiko's explanation. "If I happen to snap one— _break it in half_ —it will release a shadow warrior, a protector of the heavens and of the Earth—an _oni_." Scott shuddered discreetly, not knowing why he felt uneasy around that word or the image of a shadow warrior.

"What does it do?" Scott asked though a part of himself protested the question as if saying there was no need because he already knew.

"Kitsunes are made from pure elements. My kind are meant to be the stewards of nature, the protectors of men and animals alike yet our close, er, _cousins_ do not share the same responsibility nor the same duty." Noshiko then moved towards the scroll and Scott felt like the black ink grew darker and began to move, to swirl as if it was alive. "A _nogitsune_ needs to feed on fear, pain, strife, and confusion in order to become more powerful."

Taking a look at his hand, Scott's mind went back to the yesterday's event inside the preserve when he took Stiles' pain before blacking out. He wondered if he's the nogitsune when he remembered that he was already poisoned with the wolfsbane and whatever it was that Mr. Yukimura and his wife used on him.

"The saying ' _You are what you eat._ ' never rang more true. _Nogitsunes_ live off negativity and, in turn, become living embodiment of those negative attributes. With the presence of a _nogitsune_ , the world could crumble into pure chaos and disarray." Noshiko's face looked grave. "So, the gods of the heavens decided to intervene and help by creating shadows that would ward off evil spirits and bad luck—hence, the _onis_."

So far, Scott understood the whole Japanese mythology but he still didn't know why he was still tied with zip ties. "But why did you poison me?" it was a simple question, in his defense, but something he really needed to have answers to.

"To find out whether or not you're the nogitsune. After all, what better way to distinguish a fox than to expose it to its own weakness?" In the corner near the scroll, Ken sighed. "Scott, I take it that you're not a born werewolf?" he raised his eyebrow at his History teacher before nodding cautiously. "Scott, a few decades ago, just after the Pear Harbor attack, there's a camp set up here in California. A military internment camp for the Japanese was destroyed because of a _nogitsune_ attack." Ken looked at his wife and Scott noticed that there was a look that was passed between them.

There was this look of familiarity, of a spark gone too dim that would have only been blurred out by time and things too horrific to only hear about.

Scott's eyes narrowed at Kira's parents and specifically, Kira's mom. " _You_. You were there, weren't you?" Scott wanted to ask why she was still alive, considering that World War II was a few decades ago and she shouldn't be so young-looking even with advancements in medicine or with good genes because as far as he was concerned, humanity has yet to discover the fountain of youth.

Noshiko nodded. "Yes. I was there and there was a _nogitsune_ attack." The look on her face told Scott that she was reminiscing a memory and a gut feeling told him that it was related to her time inside the internment camps. "I managed to defeat the _nogitsune_ and trap its spirit, using the form of the firefly, inside a jar." There was a hanging tone in Noshiko that didn't quite answer his question.

"But?" he pressed further.

Noshiko breathed in deep and looked closely at the scroll painting, tracing the calligraphy with her finger, the sound of flesh sliding against paper ringing in his ear as the skin behind it ached. "To trap the spirit of a thousand year-old demon is no easy task and certainly not one to leave to something so easily broken with pressure and age like a jar." Noshiko walked towards a table near the scroll where a bonsai tree was placed. "In order to trap something that powerful, you'll need a source to back it up." Scott narrowed his eyes at the bonsai and realized what she meant.

"The Nemeton. You used the Nemeton to trap the _nogitsune_ and when we—" Scott's breath hitched and got stuck in his throat.

Noshiko's head quickly turned to his direction, her eyes narrowed down suspiciously. "What? What did you do?" Scott was conflicted. He didn't know if he should tell them or not but when the thought of something hurting his friends, his family, the people he loves and he's left helpless and powerless to help them because he doesn't know what exactly he's facing, he knew that he had to tell Noshiko and Ken about what happened at the Nemeton.

"I, er, my friends and I needed to draw power from the Nemeton because we needed to find it and the only way was to give power back in the form of a sacrifice." There was a look of shock and horror on Noshiko's face. "Anyways, my pack's druid told us that we had basically recharged the Nemeton. That we made it some sort of active beacon again, I guess."

Walking towards him, Noshiko had a cutter in hand and for a moment, Scott forgot about being a werewolf and was downright worried that she might cut him open for doing something. "Do you know what you've done?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper when she finally stood in front of him. "You've recharged a supernatural beacon that's been long powerless. You've freed the _nogitsune_ when you came back from your sacrifice." There was a look of pity on Noshiko's face that was mixed with confusion. "You shouldn't be alive, considering you have brought back darkness with you and yet you are, _you_."

A part of Scott knew that her saying that he shouldn't be alive meant that he had to die but he couldn't understand why there was this confusion that was written all over her face.

"Why are you yourself? Why are you marked by the _onis_?" Noshiko reached behind his left ear and her fingers collided with a scar that hurt and stung a but but he hid the hurt well enough for her not to suspect anything. "It wouldn't make sense considering—" she suddenly stopped her eyes narrowing down at him. " _We_. You said we. How many of you died to recharge the Nemeton?"

Scott cautiously held up three fingers and he immediately thought of his best friend, Stiles, and his ex-girlfriend, Allison.

Helping him up, Noshiko gave him a firm look in the eye. "Listen, Scott, you have opened a door to another world and something came out with you and your friends." Ken stepped forward and in his History teacher's hands was his backpack. "Remember Scott, that a _nogitsune_ is a spirit. It needs a host and a way to find out the host is to find a sickly human because the way a _nogitsune_ treats its body is abusive. It wears its host down to their very core." Scott nodded when his mind went back to an earlier memory of his best friend.

Stiles was sick. And injured, and he was one of the surrogate sacrifices for their parents.

Soon, they came to an agreement that whenever one would find out something new crucial to their hunt for the _nogitsune_ , they would have to tell the other. After that, Noshiko gave him some pills that she swore on her soul that was wolfsbane and mountain ash free and would help him regain his strength by morning. "We're really sorry for this, Scott." Ken apologized to him as he walked him down the steps leading to the door.

"No. I understand. You had to do what you had to do." Scott nodded before offering his hand waiting for the older man to accept. His History teacher eventually smiled and accepted his hand, shaking it. "I'll tell you something when I learn more about the _nogitsune_." Scott muttered under his breath before walking out the door and headed straight for the street lamps where Allison dropped him off and checked his bag for his phone.

Scott cursed under his breath when he realized that he's been in dinner for far too long because of the amount of messages and missed calls from his mother, Derek, Stiles, and Allison. He quickly sent his Mom a text to tell her that the dinner was finished.

"Scott?"

A voice piped behind him and he realized that it was Kira. "Hey," he waved his hand weakly before typing a quick text to all of the people finding him. "How are you?"

"After learning that my mother is almost 900 years old? I like to think that I'm coping well enough." Scott chuckled but stopped when he realized that Kira wasn't laughing with him. Hiding his phone away, Scott went to Kira and tried to breathe in her chemo-signal, figure out what was wrong with her but found out soon enough that he couldn't quite pin point what was wrong with her.

"Hey, what's wrong?" suddenly, there was this lost and confused look on her face that made Scott remember the time he was just coming out of denial that he was actually a werewolf. It was like Kira was mourning her innocence and it mirrored how he mourned the life he could never have again when Peter bit him. Subconsciously, he leaned in towards Kira and for a moment she leaned in, too, until she stepped away, clearing her throat and turning away from him.

"Kira, wait," Scott chased her again, looking at her straight in the eyes and holding her hand in his. "I just want to get to know you. I _really_ want to get to know you." Kira furrowed her brows and looked at him in disbelief as if what he had just said was something hardly possible. Remotely possible, even.

"And _kissing_ someone on the lips is a great way get to know one another? Wouldn't asking questions be a better way?" Scott was prepared to say something back when he realized she was right and that he shouldn't have tried to kiss her. But he really did want to get to know her so he gave her this look, this puppy-dog look that apparently made everybody trust him. At first, Kira bent a bit, caved in but her resolve remained and she shook her head. "Scott, how am I supposed to trust you when I don't even know what you are?"

Scott had to admit that, while her reason was every bit justifiable, he was hurt. Why couldn't she trust him because of who he is and not what he is.

 _Because she doesn't know you and you don't know her_. A voice in his mind piped up, an eerie voice that sounded scratchy and sketchy but also creeped him out. _Get to know her, Scott._

While Scott wanted to ignore the creepy voice, he couldn't really life to himself. He really did want to get to know Kira. So, Scott shrugged and smiled his somewhat mischievous, somewhat dashing and purely crooked smile that made his Mom mirror the grin he would have. He was prepared to say something that was probably incredibly cheesy and downright very him in nature, very Scott but she cut him off. "No." Scott's face morphed into confusion and to disappointment.

"I just want to get to know you." Kira shook her head and pointed at him.

"How could I let you when I don't even know if I can trust you." Then an idea sparked in his mind, a small smile resting on his lips all of a sudden.

"Then, ask me stuff." Kira eyed him suspiciously. "Or not. I'll just tell you things you may or may not want to know." Lifting his hand, Scott cupped his chin and mocked pondering, thinking of whatever the hell he could say to Kira to get her to trust him. "I'm Scott McCall, native Californian, and I'm 17. I study at Beacon Hills High School where your Dad teaches History. I've got a set of dorky and stupid friends but I love them and I'd protect them with my life if I have to." Kira narrowed her eyes at him before he sighed, giving in. " _And_ I'm a werewolf." He finished.

But Kira looked unconvinced, like telling her his most important secret isn't enough. "Prove it." She challenged him and while he wanted to, his chest deflated visibly because he knew that at the moment, he really couldn't. Soon enough, though, she noticed it. "Why? What's wrong?" she asked, her genuine concern lifting his spirits up.

"I can't shift. I can't control it these past few weeks actually," _since the Nemeton_ , he wanted to add but Kira looked content with the explanation but there was still a need for an answer in her eyes when Scott remembered something about Kira and eyes. Studying her, Scott spotted the lace and soon saw the camera buried beneath her jacket. "Take a picture of me and leave the flash on." Kira looked a but shocked but followed anyway, taking the small silver camera and turning it on.

Soon flashes illuminated the road and when Kira took a look at the pictures she took of him, she gasped, doing a double take, staring at both him and at the camera's screen. "Your eyes," she trailed off, showing the camera to him where there was this blur that covered his eyes. "You are telling the truth." Scott shrugged, a small smile tugging at the ends of his lips.

"So, you think you can trust me now? I mean, now that you know who I am and what I am, you think you can—" he was cut off by a small smile growing on Kira's face when she handed him the camera, the settings were fixed on a flash and on the camera mode.

"Take a picture of me and leave the flash on." Kira echoed his words and Scott found himself looking through the camera screen and focused on her, clearing the image every so blurry before taking the picture, making sure to take three shots. After being momentarily blinded by the not-so sudden flashes of light, Scott took a look at the picture and realized that Kira's eyes glowed in a red-orange hue, a fox like aura surrounded her much like a guardian.

Scott could only stare at the photo before he wordlessly give the camera back to Kira. "Mom says that it's foxfire." Scott nodded, looking at Kira intently as if the moment he'd take his eyes away from her, she'd cease to be with him like Allison. "This started a few months ago and it's the reason why I don't take pictures of myself anymore. . .or anyone for that matter." Scott shrugged.

"It's okay. Allison and I never really took much of them, anyways." Scott said wistfully, as if he regretted not taking more of them when Kira looked at him oddly.

"You really loved Allison, don't you?" Scott nodded, remembering an old saying of how the first love was kind of like the best one you'll ever have, the one you'll never actually forget about. It's your fairy tale romance and it's the hardest to let go, the biggest heartbreak.

"The real question there is how could I _not_?" Scott chuckled, remembering how he would have given anything to be with her as his fingers traced the two bands near his shoulder. "She's Allison Argent, this amazing woman who had this amazing capacity to love despite everything she's been through, who cares even when others had stopped. Allison would keep fighting even when she knows she'll lose." Kira looked at him before pressing a kiss on his cheeks.

Turning to face Kira, suddenly, he didn't to return it or follow it up with a kiss on her lips and she sighed. "It's actually quite hard not to like and fall in love with you."

Scott looked shock, feeling his cheeks burn and color crimson red. " _Me_?"

Kira nodded. "If you could see your face," she suppressed a smiled as if her eyes were teary. "Of course, you." But then Kira wiped the tear before it even began to fall, and now that Scott began to think about it, it was way too symbolic for him to ignore. She wiped her tears before she could actually cry for what would inevitably be a broken relationship. "Scott, listen, I like you but it's obvious that you love Allison and you'd be that way for a long time, _so_ , I break up with you." Scott raised a brow at Kira and tilted his head to a side.

"But we've never been together." Scott pointed out but Kira just shrugged, her eyes still glistening as if to say not to ruin her moment.

"So? I don't need to be with you to tell you what you have to do, who you have to pursue, who you have to love, to continue loving." Kira's words hit him heavily and a part of him snapped as he just took a look at his watch. "You love her, Scott. She's your epic love and that kind of love doesn't just fade away." Scott wanted to tell her otherwise, that love may not fade away but it can change. He wanted her to see logic that he could learn to love someone else when he's realized that his love for Allison did change, it magnified, and not in a different way, but in the exact same form he thought he's let go of for months.

He loves her.

"I do. I do love her."

Kira smiled at him, her eyes seemed to be more piercing than ever. "Now, I don't have to go _summon-my-ancestors_ to tell you what to do next, do I?" Scott visibly gulped and he just nodded. "Good. So, need help winning Allison back?"

Scott could only laugh with Kira until the moment his Mom came by to pick him up.


	12. CHAPTER XI - STILES

**SUCCUMB**

 **CHAPTER XI - STILES**

* * *

Stiles shifted and churned in his sleep, feeling unnaturally cold and he knew that he shouldn't be that way so despite his heavy eyelids and aching body, he rose from the soft mattress only to see that Lydia's side was empty. Thoughts ran through his head and he knew that something was troubling his girlfriend, something about being a banshee and the powers it came with.

Reaching out for the nightstand, his hand eventually found his phone. Pressing the button on the side, Stiles squinted when the bright light illuminated the room for a bit as he tried to get a good look at the time. The screen read 3:21 and that particular time felt oddly familiar, like he had woke up to that time before before he pocketed his phone.

As much as he wanted to stay in bed, Stiles couldn't stomach the thought of his girlfriend— _of anyone he cares about, for that matter_ —troubled at night and even though his eye lids felt as heavy as a quarter pound, he had this need, this urge that made him gravitate towards the hallway outside his room leading up to the small balcony where, sure enough, the door was left ajar and wide enough to let him see his girlfriend's back as she watched the night sky.

"Hey, you."

Lydia's head whipped around, a small but tired smile gracing her lips and Stiles had to pinch his arm to convince himself that this wasn't a dream, that Lydia Martin, the greatest mind in all of Beacon Hill, was his girlfriend and that she's wearing his favorite S.T.A.R. Labs sweatshirt as she rubbed the sleepiness off of her eyes, her hands falling to her side like it was some sort of silent invitation for him to join her.

Stiles stifled a yawn but it did not go unnoticed. "Aren't you supposed to be asleep? Resting and all?" Lydia pointed to the cast but he just shrugged, walking towards his girlfriend and enveloping her in an embrace, feeling comfortable in the familiar warmth that her body gave off.

"Huh," Stiles muttered under his breath but said it loud enough for her to hear. "And you're not supposed to be asleep during this fine, ungodly hour of 3 in the morning?" he just closed his eyes and enjoyed the cold wind blow against his face when there was a soft sigh from Lydia, the sound he knew well enough to figure out that whatever was troubling her, it was banshee related and it was something really big so he faced her, and despite his confusion, offered a comforting smile. "Come on, you can tell me what's bothering you."

Beside him, Lydia gave out a frustrated groan before wiggling free from his embrace, her eyes still fixed on the ink-black sky lit up by the twinkling stars. "I just. . .ugh! I just don't know what to do!" she threw her hands up in the air and even though Stiles knew that his girlfriend was going through something really heavy, like _the-weight-of-the-world-on-your-shoulders_ heavy, he couldn't help but smile because she's absolutely adorable.

Stiles fought the urge to smile silly because it wasn't the time or the place or the situation to but he's in love with Lydia Martin for the longest time and he's finally with her.

Lydia, of course, eventually caught to his small smile and somewhat adoring gaze. "Stiles Stilinski," her voice had this sharp edge to it, like she was daring him something he should definitely not do. "Are you seriously laughing right now?" just as she had said the word ' _laughing_ ', Stiles couldn't help but release a small chuckle.

Lydia's gaze on him hardened and that was when Stiles knew that he should just stop. Taking a moment to recompose himself, Stiles raised a brow and wrapped his arms around her once again, settling in another comfortable position even with his brace. "How about," he began seriously, looking in the distance to trace the constellations that graced the sky. "You tell me how it all began." Despite the look of disbelief on Lydia's face, Stiles' serious expression remained. "Come on, you can tell me."

Lydia just sighed and he knew that he was one step closer to cracking the outer shell, this wall she's built around her whenever her banshee powers would come and plague her, leaving her with a series of sleepless nights. Stiles could see the exhaustion in her eyes as he took his phone from his pocket and turned his flashlight on and dimmed it a bit, giving some sense of openness and privacy to them. Lydia glanced at the screen of his phone, though. "How did Scott's date with Kira and her family go?"

Stiles' face lit up with familiarity as he remembered the text Melissa sent him hours ago, telling him of how she picked Scott up from the dinner. "He was laughing with Kira on the sidewalk. Melissa told me that it's been a long time since she's heard Scott laugh like that." A sad smile occupied Lydia's face and immediately, Stiles was conflicted on whether or not he should be happy for Scott that he's finally moving on with Kira or that he should be sad that Allison was yet again losing someone she loves.

The look on Lydia's face was something Stiles couldn't really decipher. "That's good. Scott's moving on." The tone rang in a way Stiles knew wasn't sincere, but it wasn't like she was faking or pretending that it was fine. It was more like Lydia couldn't find it in her heart to give out any other reaction than that, than disappointment.

Feeling somewhat guilty for weighing his girlfriend even more, Stiles tightened his arm around Lydia, giving her a warmer and more supportive embrace. "I know that it's a good thing and all for Scott to move on, but trust me, I know what it feels like." Stiles thought back then to Freshman year just when Scott was starting to get attention because of his over-night werewolf abilities. "He'd smile the brightest when he's with Allison. I know Scott, Lydia, and I know him enough to say that he'll be his happiest with her. _With Allison_."

Lydia gave him a look, a pained look that he knew would eventually burst. "Ugh! I just. . .I just don't think that I can do this, deal with this feeling that's been tugging at my stomach, yelling at me for the past few days and it's been driving me insane!" Lydia stopped, looking at him for some sort of support, searching his eyes for something that he couldn't quite give. "I just can't do this anymore, knowing that someone's about to die and all I can think about is how I'll have to tangle you in front of danger's way when you, Scott, and Allison have barely spent a week in school!"

Stiles froze when he heard the word in Lydia's fairly rushed outburst. "Wait, what did you say? Who's dying?" the thought of someone dying obviously surprised him, this dread pooling in his stomach but compared to his girlfriend's reaction, the look of shock that hung on her face, Stiles knew that something was terribly wrong and recalling who he was just talking about, horror dawned on him, too. "Oh. God! Don't. . .it's not Scott, is it?"

Lydia shook her head and pursed her lips, her expression telling him how much it pained her to keep a secret. Stiles felt himself sigh in relief, knowing that it wasn't his best friend but the victory was short-lived because his girlfriend still had this pinched look on her face that looked like she was left in a situation where she was asked to give up either her life or her soul. It was in hat moment when Stiles knew that something was still wrong, and while it may not have been his brother, it was still someone important in his girlfriend's life.

"Who is it, Lydia?" Stiles gently took both of her hands into his, feeling her cold skin collide against his warm and somewhat clammy palm. "Please, Lydia," his eyes searched for some kind of clue; a give-away of some sorts of on who he needed to save. "I need to know."

There was silence, for a short moment before Lydia looked up to him. Stiles only realized that she had blood-shot eyes, that she had been crying the whole time she'd been staying in the terrace. "I saw Aiden." Under normal circumstances, Stiles would have been _a little_ jealous and mocked anger but that wasn't the case. He saw the gravity of the situation much like how the grasp of death would hang in the air. "I saw Aiden die, Stiles." Lydia was crying.

Stiles was never fond of the Stein twins especially Aiden because he had been with Lydia but that fact only made Stiles more determined to save the testosterone-filled werewolf. _It's obvious to anyone_ , Stiles thought to himself as he wrapped his arms around his girlfriend, soothing her gently and as calmly as he possibly could. Aiden means a lot to Lydia and while it may not be romantic, Stiles needed to save his girlfriend's ex.

"Hey hey, it's okay." Stiles tried to soothe his girlfriend by whispering silent, comforting words. Cupping her face with both his hands, Stiles lifted her face up gently so that she could meet his eyes. "You already told me what's going to happen and we're going to do the same for everyone else. We're going to tell them about Aiden and we're going to do everything we can to save him." Stiles expected Lydia to smile up at him or to at least give a small and somewhat playful banter but he didn't expect the teary eyes and Lydia shaking her head.

" _No_! No, Stiles, don't you understand?" Stiles didn't need a mirror to tell him that confusion was written well into his face. "A banshee—telling someone's death, spreading around the premonition will never end good because no one can know too much about the future, no man can know too much about his future." Lydia looked concerned, worried as she stared into the distance, the pitch black darkness enveloping Beacon Hills. "I've done some research, Stiles, I've looked into the Bestiary and the one thing I've always come across was the fact that telling a person his or her fate will end badly."

Then, an idea clicked in Stiles' mind, the thought and images of secrecy and discrepancy inspiring him. "Then we don't tell him." Stiles said simply. "If Aiden knowing about his fate in the future would mean bad things, then let's keep him in the dark while we work on the sideline trying to prevent whatever may happen to him." Stiles pressed a soft kiss on Lydia's forehead, taking her once again into his arms. "Lydia, the future isn't written; nothing's set in stone yet." Looking into her eyes, Stiles assured her. "What you saw is merely a possibility, a future that could happen."

There was doubt and hesitation in Lydia's eyes, reluctance to believe but eventually she caved in, melting back into his arms as he lead her back inside the house and into his room.

Laying beside his girlfriend on his bed, Stiles watched her as she looked up at the ceiling and sighed. "I'm sorry that I dumped all of this on your shoulders." Stiles opened his mouth to protest, to tell her that she's wrong. She didn't dump anything on his shoulders. If ever someone had the weight of the world on his shoulders, it would surely be Scott with his hero mentality but not him. No, his self-preservation skills far outweighed any heroic bone in his body. "I mean, you should be resting after the whole incident with the Nemeton. I mean it's just _Thursday_ —barely four days after you guys went back to school and here you are, thrust back into the madness of all things supernatural."

While Stiles wanted to tell Lydia that it wasn't her fault, reality dawned on him that everything was just moving too damn fast for him when a smile crept up on his face, nudging his girlfriend's shoulder with a mischievous smile playing on his lips. "Hey, come on, think about it—only one more day before everything turns into heaven with the magic of the Weekend!" Lydia couldn't help but chuckle and Stiles felt like he had succeeded in his job in being a good boyfriend.

* * *

Morning came by far too fast and soon, Stiles found himself alone on his bed as Lydia stood in front of him, all dressed and ready for another day at Beacon Hills High School, munching on a green apple with a small, leather backpack hanging over her shoulders.

"Well, since Dr. Geyer cleared you to go to leave as per your insistence, you, _mister_ , are going to school." All of a sudden, clothes went flying in his direction and, for a moment, had covered his face and blocked his vision, still shocked and somewhat dumbfounded at what had just happened. "So, Stiles, take a shower, eat your cereal, and brush your teeth." Lydia gave him this tight smile that told him he should do whatever it was that was asked of him.

Although Stiles knew that there was nothing he wanted more than staying in bed all day, he stood up and kissed his girlfriend's cheek who left shortly after. "Give me five minutes," was all he muttered before grabbing the clothes Lydia had prepared for him to head into the shower and take a long-deserved bath when he spotted his phone sitting on the night stand. Reaching out to grab the cellular device with his good arm, Stiles pressed on a power button so that the screen would light up.

 _3:21 AM._

Stiles sucked a breath in when he saw the familiar time. Turning it off, he restarted the device and when it finished booting up, Stiles sighed in relief when a more updated time was displayed on the screen and yet there was this horrible gut feeling that kept tugging at his stomach, telling him that there was something terribly wrong with 3:21 AM. He tried thinking that maybe it's when Aiden will die but there was something more to it, something more ominous and dark that hing like a shadow.

But he had no solid proof other than a gut feeling. So Stiles grabbed his phone and the clothes Lydia gave him before heading into the bathroom, showering for a good amount of time, admittedly taking more than the initial five minutes he'd promise Lydia as he walked down the stairs, all dressed and ready for school when he spotted his father comfortably chilling inside the dining room, sipping on what seemed like black coffee.

"Hey, Dad." Stiles raised his brow and realized something wrong—his father wasn't wearing his uniform. "Anything happened?"

Stiles moved in, his eyes casually landing around the room, once meeting with his new backpack that was safely placed on the couch. The aroma of juicy yet crispy bacon filled the air. "Stiles," his father's voice greeted him, a small smile eventually reaching his gaze. "Aren't you supposed to be at school by now?" his father raised a brow, causing him to mirror his Dad and retaliate the same exact way that he was most familiar to: sarcasm.

"Aren't you supposed to be at the Sheriff's Office?" the look on his father's face, the shock written was borderline amusing but there was something else hidden. Stiles wanted to say something more, to pry and find out what exactly what was going on with his father when his phone vibrated against his leg. Fishing it out, Stiles stared at the screen of his phone and narrowed his eyes down at the message of the screen before looking back at his father with a pointed look. "We'll continue this later when I get back home." He said pointedly at his father with a determined look to find out once and for all what was happening to his father.

After making sure that his father understood the fact that he wasn't going to let the sudden change slide, Stiles grabbed a snack from the cupboard and a bottle of water before heading outside only to see a note taped to the window of his Jeep. The familiar twirl and loops of Lydia's neat handwriting stood out as he made out the message of how she went ahead, grabbing a few stuff at her house before going to school and that she'd meet him at the parking lot.

Unscrewing the bottle cap, Stiles took a big gulp from the water bottle and nodded. "Figures." He muttered under his breath as he got inside his Jeep, struggling for a minute because of his broken arm when he saw the time, his body froze and air left his lungs. The clock was stuck and it read 3:21, and his heart beat raced like a horse before he briefly blacked out, like a cape or a shadow swallowing him whole. His thoughts ran rampant and Stiles felt beads of sweat cover his forehead before he felt like he could move again.

Blinking, Stiles stared at the built-in clock and realized that it wasn't at all like 3:21, in fact, he realized that if he'd stay for another thirty minutes in the driveway wasting gasoline, he'd have to run to Beacon Hills High School. It was that option or steal his father's stock police cruiser that sat inside the garage untouched for the past three weeks.

Shaking off the horrible gut feeling he had, Stiles pressed on the pedal and the Jeep surged forward, the familiar hum of the engine reaching his ears as he cruised down the neighborhood, passing down Scott's house and noticed that the bike was missing and no-where to be found. Snickering, he felt sorry for his best friend when he imagine the suddenly overprotective beta, Isaac, because he was going to hound on Scott the whole day for riding the motorcycle.

Realizing the potential talk-down from Isaac, Stiles made a mental note to follow the alpha and beta around to see if there would be anyone on the receiving end of a lecture.

 _It would make for good entertainment_ , Stiles thought to himself as he took a familiar turn at the end of the street almost automatically, peering over his backpack that sat beside him on the passenger seat knowing that he'd arrive at Beacon Hills High School in a few minutes.

And soon enough, Stiles pulled over at an empty spot near the entrance of his school, Lydia's red Mazda was parked right beside his Jeep with Allison's silver Prius parked a few spaces over with a handful of cars in between.

Stepping out of his Jeep, Stiles grabbed his bag and squinted at the bright light before his eyes was fixed on the image of his girlfriend talking to one of his closest friends, Allison Argent. Walking over, Stiles kissed his girlfriend's cheek and while he enjoyed the fact that Lydia Martin is finally his girlfriend, he couldn't help but mentally chide himself for doing so in front of Allison, whose not-so discreet pained expression told him everything he needed to know.

Following her Allison's gaze had landed was the parking space for the motorcycles and bikes where Scott had dismounted off the deathtrap his best friend calls his ride. Though that wasn't the upsetting part for Allison, it was the passenger his best friend had brought along—the woman who clung to Scott's waist as they rode through the parking lot was Kira Yukimura, the girl his best friend had been on a date with.

 _And a good one at that_ , Stiles thought to himself when he remembered the text he received of how Melissa picked him up from the date, laughing his ass off with Kira talking and spouting every kind of nonsense. Stiles was genuinely happy for his best friend, he really was and he's really trying his best not to be biased about the new budding relationship but he couldn't help it. Looking beside him, Stiles sighed audibly because looking at Allison hide her pain through that obvious longing expression, that Kira isn't the one for Scott.

But he swallowed the words before they even left his mouth. Stiles smiled and started walking towards Scott, who grinned at him, giving a small wave at his direction. Stiles opened his mouth to say something, probably about the last episode from the third season of Black Mirror when Scott stopped walking towards him, his best friend's attention was diverted to the side.

To others, it might look like Scott was a sightseeing tourist but then, Aiden and Ethan Stein appeared out of nowhere, Kira's mouth hung open and he knew that the girl was told about the existence of werewolves and banshees and Sparks.

Walking a bit closer, Stiles found out that it was useless because soon, the small group disbanded, Scott and Kira ended up walking towards him, Allison, and Lydia again.

Scott gave them all a tight smile and somehow, Stiles knew that there was something going on with his best friend. "Hey, guys," the unsettling smile combined with the wary look Kira kept giving Scott gave him the feeling that his best friend was worried about something, that whatever it was the werewolves talked about, it had something to do with his girlfriend's premonition of her ex-boyfriend's death and he would have asked something if it weren't for Isaac walking over to their spot.

Isaac looked a bit haggard, like he had this massive hangover and if Stiles didn't know about the beta being whammied by shadow ninjas, he'd think that werewolves would have a pretty underwhelming and somewhat disappointing metabolism. But he knew better, Stiles knew what happened to Isaac and the grumpy look on his friend's face told him that he was going to be on the receiving end of a very long lecture.

Surprisingly though, Isaac didn't say anything apart from the tired gaze from his friend's face. Looking to his side, Stiles saw a probable reason why—Scott, who stood beside Kira, looked calm and just generally better, his skin tone didn't resemble a cold corpse, and he didn't look tired or sleep deprived even though he'd been sporting this anorexic, Lily Collin's _To the Bone_ look. In fact, Stiles had to admit that Scott looked healthy as a race horse. _  
_

"Thank you." Isaac breathed out. He offered a small smile while Allison beside him nodded. "So, Scott," Isaac began, all of a sudden, his expression changed into a more serious one. "You were about to say something, weren't you?" looking back at his best friend, Stiles saw Scott's expression, the pursed lips that confirmed that was about to say something.

Scott had a distant gaze, he cupped his chin before fixing his look at them and gestured at the doors and Stiles knew immediately what it meant—whatever it was that his best friend wanted to say wasn't for for anyone who's unaware of the supernatural to hear. "How about we go to our spot, I'll tell you guys everything there." The serious and somewhat grim voice was something Stiles couldn't really imagine his best friend using and yet here Scott was, all alpha-y.

Walking along the halls of the school, Stiles heard whispers ranging from shock and disbelief about him and Lydia to what could have been the party of the year Danny was about to throw this Friday if it weren't for the double-booking at the venue he had planned to use.

The heavy atmosphere prevented Stiles from cracking a witty joke and he just nodded at his best friend, following Scott towards a table by the court outside. It was like their pack's meeting place, their group's hang-out and go-to spot.

Plopping down on the bench, Stiles inched closer towards Lydia so that he wouldn't fall off the edge as he listened to whatever it was his best friend was about to say. "Stiles," Scott looked at him. "Do you remember the day when we took Kira to the preserve to take pictures?" Stiles nodded, remembering the day when his bag was mercilessly torn apart by the human-turned-coyote-turned-human-again, Malia Tate.

"How could I when I've got this as a solid souvenir?" Stiles pointed to his blue arm sling and turned to show the cast that covered his skin from his elbow up to the wrist. "I don't know about you guys but I'm not going to forget about trying— _and failing_ —to impersonate Bear Grylls." His quip earned a few reluctant and strained chuckles, even a smile from his best friend but the heavy atmosphere still hung around, the feeling of something big was coming for them.

"Stiles," Scott had this soft and tired voice that immediately told him that whatever it was, whatever his best friend had to say, it was far too grim even to kid around. "I'm serious. Do you remember that day?"

Stiles breathed in deep and raised both of his hands in defeat as a form of surrender. "Yeah, yeah. I remember, I mean, seriously, how could I forget about the time I almost became a coyote's mid-day snack?" Scott threw him another look and this time, he responded with a sheepish smile that earned him a nudge from Lydia. " _Sorry_."

Scott shrugged, nodding at his apology, and continued. "Anyways, before we went to the preserve, when I was finding you," Scott turned to his side, facing Isaac. "I bumped into Ethan and Aiden. . .well, it's more like they found me." Stiles followed Scott's gaze that was fixed at the building as if he was reminiscing, remembering the day. "They told me that their apartment was ransacked, that there were numerous symbols traced on the walls, hundreds of Spirals were clawed."

Isaac's mood changed drastically. "Wait, you mean _the_ Spiral? The Revenge Spiral, as in the one Ennis clawed into the metal wall back at the abandoned distillery?" Scott nodded and Stiles felt his stomach drop and he fought the urge to look at his girlfriend, whose hand he held under the table and gave a gentle squeeze. He could actually hear her saying not to give it away, to keep her premonition a secret. Thankfully, both Isaac and Scott seemed too immersed in their conversation/stare-off about the Revenge Spiral.

For a few seconds, Stiles managed to block out everything and there was this peaceful but heavy silence that came with a ringing in his ear when he felt like he was being watched. Looking back at Scott, he realized that his best friend had asked him a question earlier. Jarred back from his trance, Stiles blinked twice at his best friend who looked at him weirdly. "Huh, sorry, what was the question?" brushing off the look, Stiles fixed his eyes on Scott, tried to look attentive and for a second, he thought that Scott found out him keeping a secret.

"I told you that day, Stiles, that I didn't want them in the pack because you didn't trust them." Scott looked at Isaac, too. "The both of you didn't trust them so I didn't but now, they're in danger and even though they've hurt us in the past, I can't just not help them." Stiles almost sighed at his best friend. His whole life, Stiles has seen Scott risk life and limb just to help others, even when he was a lanky, asthmatic kid when he decided that he was Superman and save a kitten stuck up in a tree. "I can't let anything bad happen to them knowing well that I could have prevented it."

Near Scott, Stiles saw Isaac squirm uncomfortably. "Okay, hero complex aside, what do you want us to do with that?" as much as Stiles hated the somewhat snappy and constantly negative questions and wise-cracks, he couldn't help but agree with the beta.

Looking up, Scott looked at everyone around him, his best friend's gaze eventually stopping at him. "I need to know if you guys are on board with this, if I have your support." Stiles' chest grew heavy and he was conflicted. He never did like Aiden, but with Lydia's premonition and the whole revenge thing going on that seemed like a bad sequel to Jennifer Blake aka the Darach, he knew that they shouldn't sit out on this.

"Whatever it is, I'm in. Aiden might be a testosterone-filled Sasquatch and his brother may have banged Danny, but they don't deserve to die." With each word he said, Stiles felt his determination grow stronger and firmer. "Scott's right," he looked at his best friend and nodded at him, earning a small but solid smile. "Man, you're right. We can't let anything bad happen to them knowing that we could have prevented it. I mean saving people, that's kind of like our thing now, right?" Lydia squeezed his hand and Allison beside her nodded, muttering something in French. "And if we didn't, how are we better than the bad guys?"

Although there was a smile on Scott's face, there was something that worried him. "But do you trust them? Ethan and Aiden, do you trust them enough to welcome them into the pack?" Stiles realized that his heartbeat may have been off. Calming himself down, Stiles breathed in deep, knowing too well what is answer it.

"No." Scott frowned at his answer but he didn't say anything. "Frankly, there is nothing they can do that will ever make me trust them enough to bring them into the pack but I don't want them die." He looked at everyone at the table, a pang of guilt and pain spreading through his chest. "I mean, guys, we're just teenagers. We never wanted any of this," Isaac looked like he wanted to say something, remained silent and mum. "And in the end of each and every day, Ethan and Aiden? They're just kids, too."

Scott nodded. "Okay. If you don't want them in the pack, then we won't." Stiles gave his best friend a grateful nod, letting out a breath of air he didn't know he was holding in.

Isaac cleared his throat, coughing out loud enough to get everyone's attention. "So, let me get this straight; we're going to protect the Wonder Twins from werewolf packs they've pissed off in the past but we're not going to take them in because we don't trust them, is that it?" there was silence and nobody made a sound. Huffing, Isaac, fixed the loose and messy scarf over his shoulder. " _Brilliant_."

Suddenly, there was this cough from beside Lydia and all heads turned to Allison. "So, now that we've decided to help them, how are we going to do that exactly? We don't know where they live and the most we know from them are their phone numbers." There was a resounding groan from Isaac, muttering something about a wild goose chase and how tiring it to run after people who need their help. "And when will we start exactly?"

Isaac let out another groan. " _Fan-fucking-tastic_! We've become a security agency." Looking sarcastically at Lydia, Isaac stared at his finger nails as if he couldn't wait for something to claw. "Who are we going to protect next, huh? The President's son?"

Stiles saw the internal struggle in Scott's eyes, how much his best friend wanted to call out on his beta but he stopped himself. "Well, have you guys heard of the party Danny's throwing?" Stiles nodded, remembering the people whispering around in the halls when they passed by. "Well, for what I know, Derek and Peter are going out searching for something this Friday, I didn't ask them what it was, but it looked like it was pretty important and that they'd be out all night searching for it. I'll tell Derek about Aiden and Ethan so I borrow the loft, keep an eye on them."

In the corner of his eyes, Stiles saw a small smile build up on Kira's lips. "Yeah, we could do something like a black light party with glow sticks and neon paint!" for a moment there, Scott looked over at Kira and smiled at her widely. Stiles wasn't sure if his best friend heard Allison take in a sharp breath of air.

Stiles was about to say something, something to keep the topic off the party for Allison's sake when something went beeping. Looking around, he tried to find the source when he realized how familiar it was to him. Looking down at his hand beneath the table, the hand he held Lydia's with, was his watch beeping. "Oh, _shit_." Stiles grabbed his bag and put it in front of him, going through the smaller pockets first as he struggled to snooze the alarm because it might hurt his werewolf friends' sensitive hearing. "Sorry, guys," Stiles fished out a small white bottle of pills. "Got to take my meds."

Popping the cap open, Stiles took two pills and swallowed them whole, taking the water bottle Lydia took out of his bag for him. Across the table, Scott and Kira exchanged weird looks with each other. "Stiles, you're still sick?" while drinking his water, he took his bottle of pills and flashed it in front of his best friend, letting his stuff speak for him.

There was this nervous smile from Scott and this unreadable look on Kira that he couldn't quite understand what it meant but the exchange of wary looks and meaningful nudges may seem something like couples would do. For Allison, it may look like Scott moving on because her feelings for him could have been clouding her judgement but Stiles had nothing to blur his perspective on what's happening and the moment Scott gave a small nod in Kira's direction, Stiles knew that they were hiding something.

Something all of them should know about. And they were hiding it and whatever it is, it's pretty damn important.


	13. CHAPTER XII - ALLISON

**SUCCUMB**

 **CHAPTER XII - ALLISON**

* * *

Allison breathed in deep as she hid a small holster on her waist, tucking a few loose ends of her checkered red blouse. She checked herself in the mirror, turning around to see different angles to make sure that the holster and the small flashbang grenade would be remain unnoticeable to an ocean of drunken teenagers in the dim light even if she would have to go around the loft, to search the place in case of any invaders plotting to take revenge on Aiden and Ethan no matter how justified the cause.

" _Nous protégeons ceux qui ne peuvent pas se protéger eux-m_ _ême._ " Allison chanted her code in a way similar to a mantra or a prayer. In a way, she drew strength from her code as much as it stopped her from doing what she felt like doing. Releasing a breath of air she didn't know she was holding in, Allison realized that for some reason she was dreading the moment she would have to use the flashbang grenade.

Mentally chiding herself, Allison didn't know exactly why she was feeling so helpless and scared and nervous about a simple witness protection operation. It wasn't logical in any way because she's seen her father go the same thing over and over again. Recalling a time, Allison remembered that she's successfully planned and executed a witness protection operation.

Allison remembered France and recounted the time she finished the majority of her training with her French cousins when there was a situation. It turns out, a human French governor was part of an old family, a werewolf pack much like the Hales, and her reformed cousins aligned themselves with the Lorraines, protecting the unknowing governor against the threat of being killed and sparking a war between the two old families.

Allison remembered a ball held in the name of the feast day of the town's patron saint. Although the memory would sometimes escape her and would often come blurry each time she'd try to remember, Allison recalled having taken all the security measures to protect the governor who remained unaware of the threat looming to take his life to start a war that would devastate the residents of the town, humans and supernatural alike.

So, Allison was lost, in the end. She was nervous, but she didn't know exactly why she was feeling that way. It wasn't like it was her first witness protection operation where someone's life was in her hands. And to be fair and honest, Allison had an advantage this time—Aiden and Ethan are not only aware of the threat they're facing but are also armed and experienced. They're werewolves with years of fighting to define them.

So, Allison had to ask herself, what was she truly afraid of? It wasn't her to allow her judgement to be clouded with the possibility of failure. No, Allison knew to herself that if anything went wrong, she would go along protocol and practice: be emotionally unattached to clean up their act. Mourn later and act now. That was the plan if anything went south and yet Allison is already mourning despite the lack of failure.

Gritting her teeth, Allison grabbed a knife near her and practiced swiping and jabbing. She hated feeling like that, she hated how her judgement is so clouded and she's so emotionally attached to the people she'll have to protect. She hated how she was so incapable of focusing on the mission that she couldn't like the leader she was supposed to be.

Allison knew to herself that nobody asked her to take the lead on this, that nobody coerced her to volunteer to take the position on leading them throughout the night. She made that decision on her own, no one influenced that choice she made yet she found herself with this feeling that weighed down at her stomach. She wanted to bail and knowing her friends, they'll understand her but that will only make the feeling worse. Allison will also have to live with the guilt of knowing she didn't do anything when she swore she would.

Placing the knife down, Allison stopped and continued to look at herself in the mirror, suddenly unfamiliar with the reflection she saw.

A tear escaped her eye and Allison furiously wiped it away, hating the way she felt, being so irrational when she should be taking everything unattached and unemotionally because she has to. There wasn't a question on whether or not she should. She should be there. Her friends are counting on her to show up and lead them but there was a feeling that she just couldn't. It was like there was this boundary that stopped her from being who she really is.

And the worse part was that she didn't exactly what that boundary is.

Breathing in deep, Allison stepped away from the mirror and crossed her room, heading towards her nightstand where her phone and car keys sat inside a small velvet box. Checking her phone, Allison realized that it was almost time for their meet-up at the animal clinic to finalize on their plan, recall on how they'd cover every inch of the room and see if there was anyone with a suspicious attitude waiting to lunge for Aiden and Ethan. Basically to review on their plan—

There was a knock at her door, jarring Allison back to reality when the creaking sound of the door sounded throughout the room, her father smiling at her as he handed her numerous packets of what seemed like mountain ash. "Deaton recommended that we seal off every possible entry and what better way to keep the unwanted supernatural beings out than with mountain ash?" her father joked lightly, probably because he noticed the now-dried tear streak across her face.

Allison, at first, just stared at her father for a few seconds before wordlessly stumbling into his arms, burying her head into his chest, just trying to find comfort as the horrible feeling stormed through her mind and heart. "Dad, I'm scared." She whispered, not knowing exactly what to say next. "What if I mess things up? End up failing Ethan and Aiden—" she was cut off by her father who gave her this look that told her he didn't believe her.

"You do know that it'd okay to feel lost; _conflicted_." Allison looked up to see her father focused on the wall in front of him like he was reliving a particularly painful memory. "I'm not trying to say that it's easy because its not—you'll have to feel and go through this a million times before your burden becomes lighter to bear." Her father then continued to look across the wall of her bedroom, pain evident in her eyes but she didn't say anything about it. "But it'll eventually feel easier to bear, I promise you."

Looking at her father, Allison slowly lifted her head from his chest to look at him, imagine what he was thinking of exactly. "Dad, the burden of someone's life lying in your hands isn't exactly something that'll eventually become easier to bear!" her father turned to face her before he sighed. A scoff escaped her lips, rolling her eyes at her father. "Dad, this is someone's life! Nothing I do will ever make it easier, not when I know someone's depending on—" she was cut off again, this time by her father leaving to go and stand in between the door frame.

"Allison," he had a serious look on her face and she was quickly reminded of all the time she was in trouble for sneaking out or lying. "You're not fooling anybody and frankly, you don't have a legitimate reason to fool _yourself_." Allison raised a brow and crossed her arms, her heart still hammering and her gut still weighed heavy, nervous at what was to come at the black light party. "You don't have to lie to yourself about what you feel. You're not scared of failing this, you're scared of seeing the truth because while you need to let Scott go, it doesn't necessarily mean that you're happy with the decision."

There was a moment of silence. The look on her father's face told her that he didn't regret a single word he's said. "Dad, this. . .this is _not_ about Scott." She wanted to say more but she found out that she couldn't and instead of her voice coming out powerfully, like a strong objection that she meant it to be, it came out as a resigned sigh.

 _Like admitting defeat._

Shaking her head, she just grabbed her car keys and her phone, taking the packets of mountain ash before coming up to her father, kissing his cheek. "You don't have to pretend that this isn't about Scott. You don't have to hide it from him, you don't have to keep it from anyone. Scott? He'll understand why, he's a good kid." He reminded but she shook her head, deciding not to say anything else as she walked towards the living room, seeing her bag laid out on top of the coffee table. Grabbing her bag, Allison released a breath of air she didn't know she was holding in.

Allison went out of the living room and went straight ahead towards the elevator. Suddenly, a memory rang clear in her mind, remembering the last time she was marching like that, she was itching to head into battle after stealing the few weapons Agent McCall had rounded up. A small smile fought to appear on her lips when she's realized that nothing much has changed, the circumstances around that situation and what's happening. In the end, she's still saving a werewolf.

Allison stood in front of the elevator, hesitating on whether or not she should go in just yet, especially when she's heard the floor boards creek under pressure behind her. She realized that her father was standing a few feet behind her. Turning around, she saw him with his arms crossed and a neutral expression was on his face. Sighing, Allison gave a small smile towards her father. "I'll try be home before 11." She promised before turning around, facing the metal doors.

Entering the elevator, Allison marveled at everything that's happened to her, how it's so surreal, so different yet so familiar. A bitter thought passed through her mind when she's realized that it's only her first week back at school and yet she's only had one day that was fairly uneventful.

Thinking back on the past few weeks where she had been doing nothing but listen to Deaton on how to deal with demonic visions of her Aunt Kate now pales in comparison to what she's facing now. Allison didn't know exactly what she and her friends are going to face, whether it's revenge-seeking old foes from Aiden and Ethan's past or something else entirely, but there was heavy and sinking feeling that made itself noticeable to Allison and it was unsettling.

However, before Allison could continue with her pondering, the elevator stopped and the metal doors opened, revealing the parking lot and in front of her was her silver Prius, reflecting the light the LED light bulbs gave. Tightening her hold on the bag's strap, Allison took hold of her car door's handle. It was locked.

Fishing out her car key from her jeans, Allison pressed on a button and a resounding click from the Prius echoed throughout the parking lot, the headlights lighting up for a second, a sign that it's unlocked. Opening the door, Allison slid into the driver's seat and put on her seat belt, her foot pressing on the gas pedal causing her car to surge forward as she drove towards the animal clinic.

* * *

The meeting at the animal clinic was short and straight to the point, mainly just a distribution of some equipment and tools they'd be using if ever they'd receive a few gatecrashers, as well as some kind of ear-plugs that looked a lot like hearing aides for the werewolves to help them cope with the loud and booming music playing through the big speakers Danny rented out for the DJ, and comms so that they could talk to one another even though they'll be scattered to stand guard on different points inside the room.

Looking around the loft, Allison knew that even though she never did visit the place much, she's never seen the room hold so much people. She didn't even know that the loft could carry that much people inside it. To her, it honestly felt like all the students of Beacon Hills High School and Devenford Prep were squeezed into this room.

The smell of alcohol was mixed with sweat and neon paint and it made for this overwhelming cocktail of scent that even a human could get sick. At one point, after seeing all the happy party-goers drunk out of their minds, Allison was tempted to grab herself one party cup just to see how being intoxicated would help block out the smell when she saw something that was way more effective than alcohol—by the corner, Scott and Kira were talking to each other, the both of them smiling widely at each other.

Allison wasn't blind. They looked good together. They complimented each other in ways she supposed she couldn't.

Releasing a breath of air she didn't know she was keeping in, Allison continued looking at Scott and Kira when suddenly, he went up to the DJ and suddenly the fast and upbeat club song was gone and replaced a slower paced song started. Scott smiled widely when Kira came up to him, they were talking about something she couldn't really tell but it was obvious that they were enjoying each other's company and now she felt like an intruder, especially when he caught her staring at him.

There was this look of shock on Scott's face and this look of discomfort on Kira's. Allison felt guilty, all of a sudden, feeling like she had ruined this moment between them so she just smiled like how she's been smiling at Scott the past few weeks—with strained lips, a controlled heartbeat, glassy eyes, and a longing heart. But she smiled, nonetheless, raising her hand and hung her arm in the air to resemble some kind of half-wave. It was kind of awkward but it was the best she could manage seeing that she was being sandwiched by people.

In the distance, Scott returned the smile. She could see him breathe in relief, like he finally got the message that she was okay with Kira, with him moving on because she's moved on as well— _but she didn't, she wasn't even remotely close to moving on just yet_ —when she realized that she couldn't breathe. There was this heavy feeling in her chest that was just like a bomb about to explode and she felt claustrophobic that she couldn't breathe with everything that was going on, so she left her bag in a secluded spot near her and left the room, clutching her phone like a lifeline of some sort.

Allison swore, thanking that there was loud music all over that she'd have to shout into her comms for the others to hear her. Her father was right. She wasn't afraid of failing to protect Ethan and Aiden. No, the twins were werewolves who were more than capable of protecting themselves, they just needed the backing of an established pack with a firm and solid alpha as a leader. She wasn't nervous about the witness protection operation, she was scared about seeing the truth because seeing them happy before her eyes gives her no choice but to accept it.

Allison remembered her conversation with her father and she realized that it is about Scott and she didn't like the idea of him moving on.

It was like a blur. Allison didn't realize that she was already at the balcony of the loft with her phone pressed against her ear and her comms were removed but there she was. The ringing was seemed to stretch long but soon, a gruff voice answered from the other side. " _Hello? Allison?_ " the familiar voice of her father sounded from the phone's speakers and brought comfort to her, especially after seeing Scott and Kira exchange glances that made it so obvious that they were together.

 _Kira's his new anchor_ , a tiny voice inside her head defended Scott's— _probable_ —new girlfriend. They're supposed to look like they're in love.

At first, Allison didn't answer. She just cried until she realized that she should have done just that before actually calling her father. " _Is this about Aiden and Ethan?_ " her father humored her earlier argument but stopped when the faint sound of the blaring music reached her spot. She shook her head, although she knew that she father couldn't see her. But her silence was enough to tell him that it wasn't about the twins. " _This is about Scott, isn't it?_ " a small sob almost escaped her lips and soon, there was silence from the other side.

"Dad, how do you just turn it off?" she asked, referring to her the mess she called her feelings. "How do you just," a sob escaped her lips causing her to purse her lips together in an effort to keep herself together. "How do I stop loving Scott, to just forget about him and move on? Just stop caring about him and live my own life without ever thinking about him?" the words flew out of her mouth faster than she could even process the words and she was greeted by silence from her father.

At first, Allison paled at what she had just confessed to her father. It was horrible and it wasn't something she was proud of saying but the fact that made it more unbearable was that she couldn't say that she lied. She didn't lie to herself and to her father when she asked about how she could stop loving Scott because she wanted to—she wanted to take the whole world's advice and just stop loving Scott because in the end, she's hurting and after every single romantic-comedy she's watched, she knows that love isn't supposed to be something like that.

So, Allison started rambling on stuff like she _didn't mean it_ or it _wasn't supposed to be like that_ or it's _not what it sounds like_ , or even it's _not what you think it is_ when her father cut her off.

" ** _Allison_**." Her father's resounding voice, the authority it held, silenced her. Maybe it was out of habit, hearing that usual tone he used whenever he tried to get her attention, and maybe it was because his tone held this level of relating to whatever it was she was actually feeling. " _Making a mistake does not mean you're a horrible person just as being a predator doesn't necessarily equate to being a monster_." Allison sucked in a breath of air as the sound of the slow song reached her ears and she imagine Scott dancing with Kira.

"Dad, this isn't—I didn't mean it like that," she tried to protest softly, weakly, but it fell on deaf ears.

" _No, Allison. You need to hear this yourself. Making a mistake because of what you feel doesn't make you a horrible person—it makes you **human** ; with fault, imperfect._" The words rung in Allison's mind as she remembered that day she talked to Scott and found out he didn't have an anchor. She acted, not on impulse and not on her feelings, but every decision she took was on his consideration based on what he needed at that time. Allison sucked in a breath of air. She knew she had to cut him off.

But being needed doesn't necessarily mean being pleasant. In fact, Allison felt like someone was using a shovel to dig out her chest and but intentionally left the pain so she can writhe, to continue suffering in complete agony.

" _And to answer your question, you don't. Not completely anyway._ " Allison heard her father breathe in sharply as if he was remembering something particularly painful. " _Do you know how hard it is to mourn your Aunt Kate, knowing everything that she's done?_ " Allison stopped for a moment, pausing to reflect on how she forgot about the very crisis that plagued her earlier this week. It's like she forgot about being plagued by demonic visions of her Aunt Kate. " _How hard it is to try and hate my father for all his manipulating that eventually broke our family and yet I still love him._ "

Allison took advantage of the pregnant pause that manifested after her father left that question hanging over her head. She understood the loyalty her father had for Gerard considering that the man did raise her father. Without a doubt, much like how she looked up to her Dad, her father idolized Gerard.

Breathing in sharply, Allison remembered her Aunt Kate. That loss had hurt her in a way that she couldn't quite understand. She should be happy because justice is brought to those who longed for it. But then again, she also lost her aunt who took her out on afternoon strolls through the park to buy mint chocolate chip ice cream, the very same Aunt Kate who took her to drive-in theaters to watch a classic like Breakfast at Tiffany's or Dancing in the Rain.

Allison realized that while the world lost a murderer who killed a family of both innocent humans and werewolves, she also lost her aunt who raised her and gave her advice on her first date. Looking back at all her memories, Allison wondered how her father felt losing his only sister and sibling to the machinations and manipulations of Gerard. Realizing the pain of losing someone he loved so much to a man he trusted, Allison's heart ached for her father.

" _And your mother, do you think that I don't want to stop hurting? She went against the code because her personal judgement was clouded and because of that. . ._ " her father trailed off and she knew well what her father meant. They had lost her. " _But do not think, for a second, that I want to keep feeling her loss because I don't. I'm human, Allison, and no matter how many times I survive the impossible, it does not mean I am invincible and immune to pain._ " There was this scratchiness in her father's voice that Allison knew well to be pain and hurt.

So, Allison breathed deep, remembering the pain and how she handled it. In the end, she lost Scott and the trust of most of her friends. "Then how? How do I cope with everything? When will it begin to feel easier to bear? When will I stop _hurting_?" her voice broke at the last part, that last word because that's how exactly she's feeling at the moment. She's hurting. "I just want to turn it off, Dad. If I could, if I could just do what's logical for me to do, I will but I can't and I need to know how, Dad."

There was a sigh from the other side. " _Allison. There is nothing you can do to turn off your feelings. It's not possible for you, for anyone with the emotional capacity to love_." The words sounded foreign from her father's voice and it almost felt like she was talking to another person. " _And you'll have to go through this about a thousand times before you can actually begin to feel better but there is no way you can turn your feelings off. You just have to face them._ " Exasperated, Allison pressed a hand against her lips to prevent a sob from sounding.

"And how? How exactly do I face them?" Allison shook her head, a stray tear escaping her eye. "We have this crazy side-effects from the Nemeton haunting us and Scott doesn't have an anchor to keep him in check then Lydia's trying to discover her powers, then there's Kira. . .and Dad, I just don't know what to do with everything that's happening around here and all I can think of is how I'm not fast _enough_ to help them!" she finished her ranting, her chest feeling indescribably lighter.

" _It's actually quite funny, how you used the word ' **fast** '_." Her father said through his scratchy voice. " _Allison, you can't rush into these things and if you really want to move forward, to finally move on and let all of this go, then you have to stop for a second and take a breather for yourself._ " Allison didn't know why she did just that, but she relaxed her muscles and breathed in deep. " _You need to slow down and take a moment to yourself, go back to where all your misunderstandings started, then you finally talk it all out and resolve whatever problem there is between you two_."

Allison tried to think of what her father just said, thinking of how she'd try and make that happen but she felt like she just couldn't. How is she supposed to move on when there's this air of awkwardness around her and Scott while he's together with Kira? "Dad, how is this supposed to help?" she could just imagine how hard it would be for her to move on in life when she's avoiding the person she'd want to be a constant in her days to come.

" _Listen, Scott cares about you. There's no doubt about that, Allison, you and I both know it because a love like the one you've had doesn't just fade away. But Scot. . .he's a good kid._ " Her father hesitated for a second there, as if he was reluctantly admitting yet accepting that Scott always had her best interests in heart. " _So talk to him. He'll understand and knowing that boy, he'll overlook whatever it is because he cares about you_ —"

On the phone, her father answered but she couldn't quite hear it well enough so she raised her voice a tone higher, telling her father to wait for a second because she's going to find a better spot where the music won't blare at it spiked back then when the DJ Danny hired decided to do a more upbeat remix of a song.

Finally getting to a more secluded spot in the terrace, Allison pressed the phone against her ear once more, hearing her father chuckle softly and she could imagine his brows raised at her. " _How on Earth does Danny Mahealani keep the party in check enough to stop Derek's neighbors from issuing a noise complaint?_ " Allison began to wonder, at her father's question, if Derek knew about the small getting together that Stiles and Scott implied.

Looking at the glass where the light barely passed through, Allison doubt that they meant this party as a small get together.

Now looking across the terrace, Allison focused on the few dots of light smearing through the glass of the lower floors' windows and wondered how Derek Hale was okay with a party of this size that was bound to end up getting a noise complaint from teenagers when she's realized that there was this connection with a loud party and a neighbor's noise complaint between her situation with Scott moving on. Thinking more about it, Allison realized that it was the perfect analogy.

She's hurting, much like a neighbor who couldn't sleep because of the loud party going on. She wants to move on and just sleep but she couldn't, not as long as the party keeps going so she has no choice but to issue a noise complaint to stop the party and while she doesn't exactly want to be a killjoy or something, she needs to think about herself in the long run.

"I'm going to complain." Allison muttered to herself, determined to do what she needs to do. She needs to talk to Scott. She's hold off for so long and she realized that pushing him in that direction, it's not enough. There's still tension, this metaphorical elephant in the room that both she and Scott need to address properly before they could ever move on with their lives. Breathing in, Allison realizes that they owe that to themselves.

There was this silence from the phone before a nervous chuckle sounded that came out as a confused exclamation. " _Honey, the neighbors are the ones supposed to issue the noise complaint to stop the party, not the people who threw one in the first place._ " Her father explained but Allison shook her head despite knowing the fact that her father couldn't quite see her doing that.

"No, Dad, you're right. Scott and I, we've rushed thing right from the start of this week and we need to talk about this. We need to," Allison breathed in deep, remembering her father's words earlier. "We need to slow down, take a moment to ourselves, go back to where everything got so messed up, and finally talk about the problem between us." There was a satisfied hum from the other side of the phone and Allison could tell that her father was quite happy with himself.

" _Alright then. I love you, Allison. I'm proud of you_." Her father said before hanging up.

Following suit, Allison withdrew the phone from her ear and tucked it in inside one of her jeans' pockets, looking around to find her bag when she remembered that she left it behind a small coffee table near her original post before she stormed out outside to talk to her father. Placing the comms back into her ears, snug much like earbuds, Allison winced when she heard the loud and upbeat party music that rang from her comms.

Heading back inside, Allison was greeted by the scent of the neon pain, the bright and flashing neon lights, the smell of alcohol mixed with the scent of pain and sweat. It was an overwhelming cocktail that made Allison uneasy but she expertly dodged through the people, going straight for her earlier spot where she, as expected, found her bag still hidden behind a small table, all her stuff remained intact and accounted for when she remembered her real mission.

She needed to find Scott, finally talk about what's happening between them.

However, when her eyes scanned along the crowd of people, she failed to see Scott and Kira together. Looking around, she saw one vantage point—the top of the spiral stairs leading up to the second floor which people hardly paid any attention to. Moving fast towards the spiral staircase, Allison bumped into someone on the way. "Sorry, sorry. I didn't meant to— _Isaac_? _Kira_?" she asked when she looked up, stopping her little search for Scott to take a look at the two.

"Hey." Isaac offered a small smile before his vigilante expression changed and morphed into something more concerned and worried, as if something was definitely wrong. "Allison, what's wrong? Your chemo-signals, they're off. What happened?" he asked straight to the point but she shook her head, looking over her shoulder and around the room trying to find Scott when she turned to face Kira.

"Hey, Kira, have you seen Scott?" Kira smiled at her before pointing at Scott at the bottom of the spiral staircase, holding a small red party cup that she knew he didn't drink from. "Oh, thanks, Kira." Allison gave a tight smile before dodging and fighting through the crowd, inevitably reaching Scott, whose face lit up like a child on Christmas being told he was allowed to open a gift.

Standing up from the foot of the spiral staircase, Scott brushed off the imaginary dust that probably coated his pants and smiled at her warmly, making it harder for her to actually go on with her plan but her will remained firm and strong as ever. "Allison!" he smiled and she mirrored that, giving him a small wave. "Hey, can we come up for a second, I need your help on something a bit important." Scott smiled sheepishly but Allison's stomach fell.

Looking over her shoulder, Allison pointed beyond the windows from where the DJ was set up. "I was actually hoping that we could talk about something outside. In private. I need to tell you something." Scott's enthusiasm visibly deflated but he smiled again, pointing to a room upstairs which Allison remembered to be the place where she found Scott in the middle of a crisis with both his mental and physical health where she had to play nurse the second time.

"No, this will be real quick. I promise!" he raised his right hand and Allison suppressed a laughter from escaping her lips. "It's really important." Allison raised her brow and began wondering what was so important that Scott had to tell her right now despite having all the time in the world earlier to tell her. "It's something I have, er, for Kira and I really would like to have your opinion on it." Allison wasn't exactly sure on how she's supposed to respond to that but she knew that if she was going to talk about letting go, this was the situation to go with.

"Okay. Fine, but we seriously need to talk, Scott." Allison followed Scott upstairs, leading her to the room where she once found Scott and the way she had actually came through to him was by bringing his parents watch to him. "So, what's going on here?" Allison asked, watching as Scott fiddled with a key to open the locked door and she half-expected the room to be still stained with blood when Scott just chuckled.

"I just need your help and your opinion." The door clicked, telling them that it's unlocked. Scott opened the door but she couldn't see anything but the dim light. Gesturing for her to go first, Allison stepped in front and gasped when she saw rectangular cuts of colored paper hung in the air using neon-colored yarn that was taped to the ceilings. Each of the pieces of papers had this silver ink that spelled out her name and she carefully turned towards Scott who now held onto a bouquet of flowers.

"Scott, what is all of this?" she asked, too afraid to know what exactly it was.

"This is. . ." Scott pointed all around the room, placing the bouquet of assorted flowers on the bed beside them. "This is all for you." The candle lights and the soft music playing from the mp3 dock, Allison realized that the room was sound proof.

"But isn't this supposed to be for Kira? She is your girlfriend, Scott." Allison was afraid to jump into conclusions but Scott shook his head as tried to say something but failed to. After a few moments of the soft music playing, Scott reached into his pocket and threw out a series of cue cards, carrying the signature hand-writing of his best friend, Stiles.

"Allison, nothing had changed. What I feel for you, how I feel, it's all the same and I knew, when you gave me the watch." Scott took her hands and lead her towards the middle of the room where a note was hanging significantly lower than the other cuts of papers. On it was golden watch and a silver bow. Allison watched Scott as he smiled, taking a remote from near him and lowering the music volume down.

To Allison, it didn't quite matter.

The music was blaring and the paint was distracting but Allison only had her eyes on the man in front of her. It was like they had their own little world and that they were alone. No one else but them. "Why? But Kira is your anchor, I mean, being with her keeps. you in control of your wer—" Allison was promptly cut off with Scott's lips planted on her own.

Scott pulled away, his breathing was a bit ragged as if he breathed air for the first time. "When will you understand that I will put you first?" Allison could only stare at Scott, not knowing that a tear streamed through her cheek until he wiped it with his thumb. "This is the last time I'm ever going to let you cry," and yet another tear fell from her eye as she looked away despite Scott's hands cupping her face.

"But why—"

Allison was cut off again, this time when Scott gently turned her face to his. "Because it's you. It's _always_ been you. I love you, Allison. Allison Argent, and I will love you until," he paused, looking at her eyes, seemingly lost. "Until. . .the end of my days." His voice grew firm as doubt was erased from his tone. "Until the end of time. Always."

* * *

 _ **There it is. Allison and Scott are finally together again.**_

 _ **However, now that we've answered the question of whether or not they'll get back together, we move on to the next mind-boggling one:** will they stay together **?**_

 _ **So, thanks for the rates and reviews and the overwhelming support.**_

 _ **See you guys on the next chapter!**_


	14. CHAPTER XIII - SCOTT

**Good day, readers, this is your fanfiction author speaking and let me welcome you to the 13th chapter of the Teen Wolf fanfiction, "Succumb". We are currently cruising over not-so troubled rising plot at the plot-speed of _shit-hitting-the-fan_ really fast like Mach 2. Ladies and gentlemen, on behalf of my twisted imagination, I ask that you please direct your attention to detail because I introduce to you our main villain.**

 **Also, in the likely event that I'd cite an earlier TW fanfiction I've made, please re-visit or re-read "Powerless" to further understand this chapter. Also, do note that the italicized paragraphs enclosed inside linebreaks are flashbacks.  
**

 **Enjoy.**

* * *

 **SUCCUMB**

 **CHAPTER XIII - SCOTT**

* * *

Scott prepped Max, a wounded Golden Retriever, on the metal examination table, smiling at the golden ball of fur that looked up at him in this adorable way using these puppy-dog eyes. "And how is the patient doing?" his boss, Dr. Deaton asked, putting on some gloves and arranging the few equipment they had on the crash cart near the examination table, probably adding some antiseptic to the gauze for Max's wound.

Scott looked into Max's eyes, listening close to the puppy's heartbeat and smiling when all that was wrong was the dog's a bit nervous. "Kind of scared, maybe nervous." Scott slowly took one of Max's paw and squeezed it gently, causing the veins on his arm to darken as he felt a light sting of pain coursing through his body but seeing the Golden Retriever bounce up in joy compensated for the discomfort he felt. "But Max's a strong boy, _isn't he? Yes, he is!_ " Scott asked with a silly voice that he only used around kids and dogs. Scott smiled when Max licked the back of his hand affectionately.

Deaton chuckled, turning around finally with the medical tape and the gauze that smelled of antiseptic. His boss shook his head and headed over to the examination table, turning on some light before having Max lay on his stomach. "I was talking about you, Scott." He paused for a moment, not getting what his boss meant. "I was wondering why, after having avoided me for so long by skipping work and not attending your therapy sessions with the others, you're suddenly early for all of your shifts and you've been making up for all those lost time for therapy."

Scott smiled silly and patted Max's head, ruffling the puppy's golden fur. "Well, maybe I just need a break, wait for things to go balance out." Scott gave his boss a knowing look.

Deaton nodded at him before pointing at one of the drawers to fetch some clippers. " _Equilibrium to the mean._ " Scott heard his boss even though there was this loud ringing in his ear after Max yelped out in pain a few seconds ago. "Is this your way of telling me that things have been going your way?" Scott shrugged, smiling widely at his boss to convey his answer before grabbing the roll of medical tape. "And your sudden change in mood and the spike in your energy is a result of your recent reconciliation with Ms. Argent?"

Scott's eyes widened, wondering how his boss knew about how he had gotten back together with Allison. Looking away and avoiding his boss' stares, drowning out the background noise, he found that Max had been watching him the whole time. A smile appeared on his lips as he watched the golden puppy. "What are _you_ looking at?" Scott whispered to Max mock-chiding the puppy who then tilted his head to a side. Scott chuckled, his smile reaching his eyes.

" _Scott_?" Deaton called for his name again, getting his attention, and jarred him back to reality.

Looking up to his boss, Scott took the small bottle of hydrogen peroxide Deaton had been pointing at. "Huh, yeah?" he was a little distracted, trying to patch up Max when Deaton gave him another pointed look. "What? What is it?" Scott expected to see his boss rolling his eyes or at least chuckle in amusement but all that greeted him was a frown and a skeptical look.

Scott frowned, feeling confused, not entirely sure what was happening.

Deaton went back to disinfecting the wound. "Nothing in particular, Scott." His boss answered him as they finished patching Max up. Despite seeing the little Golden Retriever wag his tail in joy, how Max basically jumped into his arms, Scott had this sinking feeling in his stomach that told him something was wrong and Deaton was hiding it from him but there was nothing Scott could use to prove his hunches—no uneven heartbeats, no hitch in his breathing, no sudden change in his demeanor, no change in his chemo-signal.

There was absolutely nothing for Scott to connect the dots with.

Scott watched his boss carefully, discreetly watching his boss' every movement, sniffing out an irregularity on his scent or chemo-signals, hearing his heartbeat when, suddenly, the sound of latex gloves were being peeled off. Scott's eyes darted forward and saw Deaton carrying Max in his arms, the puppy's leash and collar already inside the palm of his boss' hand. Leaning against the somewhat sturdy examination table, Scott waved goodbye at Max but couldn't help but think about Deaton and what he had said.

 _Or the lack thereof_ , his mind supplied almost snappily as Scott watched his boss disappear through the walls that divided the examination room and the lobby.

There wasn't anything Scott could pin down, there was really nothing he could use to prove how he felt but something had changed. The way his boss slowed down a bit after looking at him, how Deaton went back to disinfecting Max's wound wasn't out of the ordinary but there was something there. It was like Deaton was being extremely guarded— _but then again, Scott thought to himself, when is Deaton not guarded?_ —and it was like his every move was being watched. Like his boss had become. . .vigilant of his every action, all of a sudden.

Shaking his head, Scott pushed himself away from the examination table and cleaned the metal table, trying to get the thought of his boss being elusive all of a sudden out of his mind when the person plaguing his thoughts appeared again, this time without Max or any furry companion. Scott raised his brow, remembered that the lobby had at least three more pet owners. Calming his hands, Scott walked towards his boss. "Should I go get Mrs. Diggle's dog?" Scott asked, his feet itching to escape the heavy tension when Deaton shook his head.

Holding out his hand, Deaton then pointed at the corner of the room. Following the direction of the hand, Scott spotted the familiar grey backpack. It was his bag. "I'm afraid I have some engagements for the evening, Scott, and I can't accommodate Mrs. Diggle and the rest of the pet owners." Scott's brows furrowed in confusion. It was unlike his boss to do something like this, something so spontaneous.

"You mean I have the rest of the day off?" Scott's voice was unsure, his fingers balled into a fist because he's trying to fight the urge to ask questions on what his boss is hiding when he isn't sure is Deaton's actually keeping something from him.

"Enjoy your evening, Scott," Deaton nodded and turned his attention back at the counters, arranging all of the tools and equipment they had used on Max earlier. Scott surged forwards to help, maybe try for another time to get something from his boss when he was stopped. "That won't be necessary, Scott, you can take your leave." Deaton gave him a kind smile before hiding all placing all the syringes back into the cabinet and though a part of Scott wanted to stay and find out what exactly was wrong, he didn't want to come off suspicious.

In fact, Scott knew, despite the reassuring smile on his boss' face, he knew that Deaton's already doubting him. Scott doesn't have a doubt in his mind that Deaton knows, that his boss knows about his suspicion.

"Yeah, I guess I should get going." Scott lied quickly, controlling his heart beat even though he knew that Deaton wouldn't be able to hear the irregular beating, but it felt like his boss knew, like by some magic enchantment or a spell or something. Scott wasn't sure how or why or when, but Deaton knows and the smile on the man's face unnerved him, made him feel uneasy.

Deaton nodded. "It appears you should, Scott." His boss' tone had lowered as the vet opened a cabinet and grabbed a glass medicine bottle. Scott tried to sniff it out, tried to find out what it was but the bottle wasn't opened yet. He couldn't make out what the caramel colored liquid was. "Scott? Aren't you meeting Allison?" Scott's head quickly turned towards the direction of the voice, his subconscious telling him off for spacing out, making him look even more suspicious.

Scott grabbed his backpack and picked up his bike's keys, tucking them carefully into his pocket, making sure to be quiet as he smuggled his motorcycle seeing as he's still banned from using it. "Uh, yeah, yeah. I'll get going now, Dr. Deaton. I'll see you on Monday, then. Goodbye." Scott immediately left, walking out using the back door where he hid his motorcycle behind a bunch of container boxes stacked near the building.

Hopping unto his bike, Scott locked his eyes on the building beside him and his heart hammered inside his chest—there was something wrong, and while he didn't know what the problem was exactly, Scott had a feeling that he needed to set up a meeting with Noshiko, Ken, and Kira because he had a pretty solid idea that whatever it was his boss was hiding from him, whatever gave him this ticking feeling inside while watching Deaton, he's sure that it's related to the _nogitsune_ problem.

Scott didn't know what it was that ticked him off, giving him the idea that Deaton knows about the _nogitsune_ , but it's like there's this gut feeling churning inside his stomach. It's been yelling at him, his every fiber of existence, telling him to be cautious around his boss.

Scott normally wouldn't feel that way around Deaton because his boss had practically raised him ever since his father took off. There was no doubt of Scott's loyalty and he's forever in debt to his boss but, there was something in the way Deaton looked around him, the way he smelled, the way his aura radiated. It was different, Scott didn't know why exactly, but the way it felt like—the way his boss was hiding something from him—made Deaton feel like an enemy.

Scott knew better. He does. In the end, he knows the veterinarian like the back of his hand, and that Dr. Deaton has done nothing but to help him cope with being a werewolf or helping his pack by serving as his druid. Scott knows it in his heart that there's no way his boss would, overnight, become his enemy.

Scott snapped out of his daze and wore his helmet, his heart still pounding and his mind a wreck after thinking of what's really happening. He just shook his head and dismissed the thought. _Joe West never betrayed Barry Allen_ , Scott thought to himself when he started his bike's engine, the way it purred through the lot failed to take the things off his mind but he couldn't help but think that while Joe West never betrayed or abandoned or turned his back on his adoptive son, Barry Allen, there was someone else who pretended to be the Scarlet Speedster's friend only to betray him in the end.

But Eobard Thawne did.

Scott's mind was bombarded with images of the Flash being betrayed by a man who stood as his idol and mentor, the image of being a small pawn in someone's plan. Scott couldn't get the image of Deaton going dark and evil, of going through so much just to ruin him, of having a convoluted plan that'll eventually end in his demise.

Scott tried to get it out but the scenario kept playing itself over and over again in his mind, giving him the painful image of his friends dying, of his failure—

Then everything went black.

* * *

Everything was pitch black. Hot, searing pain shot throughout his body, the sound of his motorcycle's front wheel still spinning while the smell of burning rubber wafted through the woods as he struggled to get the helmet off of his head, which he eventually did achieve after a few moments of groaning in pain and wincing.

Trying to lift himself off the ground, Scott hissed at the pain he felt pool at his hand. Checking to see if there was a bruise, Scott instead found an openly bleeding wound, his blood long turned black, some pieces of leaves, twigs, and patches of dirt sticking to his bloodied arm.

At first, Scott was blinded by the orange and setting sun, making him realize that he was supposed to meet Allison and that she was probably getting worried about him, so he mustered up all his strength to fish out his phone— _which its screen protector had earned a pretty big crack_ —and checked to see if Allison had tried to reach him.

After typing in his pass code, he got through the lock screen, not surprised to see a few texts and a missed call from his girlfriend, the earlier message he's received from his Mom telling him that she'd be working a late shift tonight, and a vague-looking picture sent to him from Stiles.

Sitting up despite the pain that shot through his spine, like an arrow had been shot right through him, Scott pressed his back against the gentle slope of the hill he fell from, a small growl of pain escaping his lips when he shifted to zoom in a little closer on the phone, looking closely at the image sent to him. _"Call me dude. asap"_ said the message, finally noticing a large amount of number of missed calls he's received from his best friend.

Tapping on the picture, Scott squinted at the photo, struggling to reach the helmet he tossed away earlier, only to figure out that there was a white folder in the picture with red and bold print. Scott couldn't determine the font but he could remember the days he would sneak into his father's office, humming the James Bond theme as if what he was doing was some sort of a secret mission to save the world, and see similar folders.

Then, Scott's smarts caught up to him and he made the connection. Those were FBI files— _his father's files_ —and while Scott had no idea how his best friend truly got his hands on the folder with the Sheriff's name, a gut feeling told him that it wasn't good especially after seeing the text message that followed the picture Stiles sent him. " _Fuck it. if ur not going to help me then i'll take things into my own hands_ " studying the photo with the folder, Scott pressed on his log and checked a miss call from Stiles.

" _Scott_." The message started out with his best friend's voice, sounding rough like Stiles hadn't slept in days. It was so dry to his ears that the thought of his best friend going on a water strike came into mind immediately. " _I need you to call me back right now._ " Listening close to the voice message, Scott could tell that Stiles was angry, furious even. Just from how his best friend's voice shook, Scott knew that Stiles was writhing and shaking from anger. " _Listen, dude, I found out about what my Dad's been hiding from me and I need your help right now. I'm so confused. I need to know if you knew about this. Just call me back!_ "

The voice message ended with a beep at the end. Scott's brows had furrowed together in confusion as he stood up despite his knees almost buckling in pain. His legs protested but he still walked towards his bike as he tapped on another voice message, this one from Allison.

" _Scott, you're late. Isaac's been worried and I've had to stop him from calling Derek to come track you down._ " Allison's familiar voice rang and Scott felt himself slightly feel better. He didn't know why or how, but hearing his girlfriend's voice gave him strength and it comforted him, knowing that she was okay, that she was there. " _Anyways, besides being absolutely worried, Isaac's pretty angry that you took the bike out._ " There was a sigh from the other side, and Scott felt bad that he lied about taking the Toyota. " _Just call me, or Isaac. We. . . **I** just want to know if you're okay. I promise I won't be angry. Call me soon. Bye._ "

Scott then saw another missed call from Stiles, this voice message lasting a lot longer than the first one. Scott's insides churned in a horrible way, a way that made him feel sick enough to puke it all out, but despite his reservations and the bad feeling that hung around him as he tried to get his bike to stand, noting the somewhat broken but not irreparable wheel, Scott started to push his motorcycle up the slope, taking a minute to process everything that had happened to him.

Grabbing his phone and lifting it up again once he reached the road where he once was before his mind decided to take a detour in the woods for an uncomfortable nap, Scott noticed the time. He'd been gone for more than 5 hours and he noticed the time he received the message from Stiles.

 _3:21 AM._

It was 3:21 in the morning, which was weird enough because in his call log, Allison's missed phone call was registered first. Allison had called him first and yet the time his phone registered Stiles' voicemail was around 3 in the morning? Scott stared ahead at the road as a knot began to tie itself in his stomach, making for this uncomfortable feeling that made his heart pound like crazy against his chest, a feeling that left him gasping for air after getting his head hit by a speeding bus.

It was like the biggest migraine and Scott gulped, swallowed his own saliva despite tasting the blood. He walks it off and paced through the road nervously, worry written into his face, wanting to go instead to Allison or to Deaton to get himself patched up first but he shook his head. I'll heal fast, he thought to himself before putting his helmet on, a spot behind his neck feeling incredibly sore after falling down the slope where he found himself earlier.

Scott then turned the key to ignition, and soon, the sound of his engine was heard throughout the road seeing as it sputtered and almost failed to start. "Come on," Scott muttered to himself before he got the bike running, his lips splitting into a smile as he did a small victory fist-pump through the air, though he immediately regret that decision, seeing that his shoulder started throbbing like crazy. Looking down at the slope, Scott had to remember that he's a werewolf to remind himself why he's still alive.

 _But you shouldn't be alive, Scott,_ a voice rang in his head, and it was a familiar sound. So familiar that it sent chills throughout his body. The image of Deaton tossing some dried herbs and black powder into a tub of water was ingrained into his mind as Scott couldn't help but think of his accident being too timely, about just how he's about to tell everyone that something's wrong with Stiles or that Deaton's hiding something.

Scott took his eyes off the road for a second, checking to see his palm if it was still bleeding. Removing his hand from handle, Scott wasn't surprised to see that he was still bleeding, that his hand was still covered in black blood considering that his head pounded like a bus ran through him with this gigantic migraine of his and that his body was still sore all over after having fallen through a few feet, bumping into the occasional rocks and pebbles to give him a concussion.

Taking a sharp turn, merely a block away from his best friend's house, Scott caught something shine and glimmer in the corner of his eyes but it was too late to stop his bike from running through the tripwire. Scott was flung some meters from his bike, making it the second time he crashed away from his motorcycle and if he wasn't that too concerned about the problem that someone had a tripwire in front of Stiles' house, then he would really consider trading his motorcycle with something that has four wheels.

"So, you've decided to show up, _wolfling_." Scott looked up, the streetlamps flickering on and off as he drifted in and out of consciousness but as much as Scott wanted to close his burning eyes and rest his bones, his skin was covered with goosebumps because the voice was scarily familiar. It was the same voice from earlier, when he wondered how in the world he actually survived crashing through a slope.

Scott understands that he's a werewolf, that he heals fast. But looking at the extent of his injuries, the rate they're healing at— _he'd be fooling no one if he said that he's healing just fine_ —because he could still feel this painful sting, this sharp sensation digging into the back of his neck.

Scott understands that he's hell of a lucky man, surviving the things he's been through, but some thing don't just add up. Scott half-imagine Deaton looming over him with a wolfsbane-infused silver stake, poised to strike as the sharp, metal tip began to draw blood from the spot on his chest right above his heart.

But Scott realized that the trap was set in front of Stiles' house, the text his best friend telling him to come urgently. Scott realized that the creepy voice he once heard in purgatory wasn't Deaton's or some other ghosts or some damn spirit trying to take over his body. _No_ , Scott thought to himself as he forced his eyes open, squinting in the bright light as the figure's face finally had more feature to it. _Too young_ , he thought to himself as he tried to raise his hand, to try and reason with his best friend, with Stiles.

But it was too late.

Like in his nightmares where the bandaged man would tear through his chest with very sharp nails or claws— _Scott never really paid much attention in the night terror where he would end up dying and-or killing his best friend and end up liking it_ —Stiles tore through him the silver stake. Scott's first and initial response was to scream out in pain, to call for some help but it was in vain because Stiles' other hand managed to weasel its way to his throat, blocking out the air from his wind pipe.

"Stiles. . .wait, you don't want to _do_ this!" Scott breathed out in the chance he got when his best friend's grip loosened for a bit. He breathed in deep, coughing and wheezing like a man who tried breathing for the very first time in his life. "Please, buddy, I know you. You're not a killer." Stiles never said a word, but his face said quite enough because instead of a look of realization, he saw a look of sick amusement from a sadist or something.

"I think I can speak for the both of us when I say that I can decide for myself on the question what I really want." Stiles twisted the silver stake, the pain slowly increasingly becoming more painful. "Besides, you're my best friend in the whole world, Scotty, why can't you tell what I really want, huh?" Stiles kicked him in the stomach.

"Stiles," Scott groaned in pain, curling up to one side as his chest vibrated with pain when he coughed up blood. "What is this about?" Stiles sneered at him.

"Your father is getting mine fired, what do you think this is all about?" there was another kick, one that sent him coughing up more blood as he felt like puking all of his insides. "But, other than that," Scott tried to crawl away from Stiles, managing to get a few metees in between them when, under a different lamp post, Scott finally saw his best friend in full detail.

"What did you do to my Dad?" Stiles was, for a lack of a better term, covered head to toe in blood. Anger fueled and boiled in him. " _Fuck_ , Stiles!" yelling gave his chest another resounding type of pain that stung in a painful way. "What the _fuck_ did you do to my Dad?" still looking at Stiles, Scott saw the whiskey-eyes turned into pitch black, his anger finally giving him the strength to tap into his wolf vision—it wasn't Stiles, it was the _nogitsune_.

Smiling coyly, Stiles had this wicked grin that played on his lips. "Well, I had to feed on anger and confusion as I made your parents argue, Scott." Suddenly, he couldn't breathe because Stiles— _ **nogitsune** , Scott told himself that despite the familiar face, his best friend wasn't out to kill him_—pressed his foot against his neck.

Scott struggled to breathe. His mind was flooded with memories of Victoria Argent trying to poison him with wolfsbane when the weight was lifted off his chest. Instead, a piece of cold steel was pressed against his temple. Blinking as black dots danced around his vision, Stiles leaned in to whisper something in his ear. "You should have seen your father _bleed_ , Scott." Stiles— _ **nogitsune**_ —laughed, smiling maniacally at him. "You should have seen his eyes as his brows furrowed in confusion, of why his godson fired at least three rounds, square in the chest." Scott struggled against the cold pistol.

Shuddering, Scott shot his best friend a look and looked him in the eye. "Stiles, I know you're in there. You've let the darkness in but this isn't you." Struggling to escape the psychotic glare he was given, Scott grittes through his teeth his last sentence despite the pain. "Stiles, you're stronger than this. You don't want to do this!"

But the nogitsune just gave him a cold stare.

"Wolfling, you should know that there's always been darkness inside your little Spark." Pressing the mouth of the gun harder against his head, Scott saw the evilness in those black, demonic eyes. "I was never the cause. Only the push your spastic friend needed." The sickly pale skin then seemed to light up with fox fire, a dark and ominous aura. "Want to know a secret, Scott? This murderous nature your best friend has? It's all his doing! And blowing your brains out?"

The _nogitsune_ seemed to have grown claws before slamming them into his heart, a satisfied and sadistic look rested on Stiles's face.

"It's only a part of my game."

Scott wanted to tell him off, that he'd never win, but he felt blood pool agaonst him in the concrete road.

Whispering sadistically, the _nogitsune_ breathed heavily. "And I'll never lose. You'll never win against. I always win, Scott, one way or another."

And then, heard around the neighborhood, was this loud shot coming from a smoking barrel of a gun.

* * *

 _ **Nogitsune!Stiles is back, finally. The wait is over.**_


	15. CHAPTER XIV - STILES

**SUCCUMB**

 **CHAPTER XIV - STILES**

* * *

 _And then, heard around the neighborhood, was this loud shot coming from a smoking barrel of a gun._

Stiles felt pain sharply explode, his shoulder surging forward as a bullet was lodged firmly between the bones and muscles, blood trickling down his arm. He wanted to cough in pain, for his knees to give in and to drop down to the ground, just curl up next to his best friend but he couldn't control his body as a sadistic grin found itself forming on his face.

Stiles wanted to stop kicking the limp and bloodied form of his best friend but it was like he couldn't. It's like he's possessed and he couldn't stop because he's not strong enough.

' _Oh, yeah. I am possessed._ ' He thought to himself dryly in both desperation and helplessness.

Even with the pain he's been dealing with, the searing pain he feels every time he took a step towards Melissa as her hands shook, still pointing the revolver at him, Stiles wanted to yell out. " _It's not me!_ " or a more simple message along the lines of " _Run to safety!_ ", he wants to tell it to the world, to get the message across but whatever it was that took over him, whoever it was fooling his friends and family, tricking them into thinking that he'd snap and finally gone _loco_ , Stiles wanted to tell them to run.

But it's no use, as Stiles struggled, a cry of pain escaping his lips when his body stepped forward, his leg aching as the bone broke when his father had swung a metal bat at his direction in an effort to stop him from killing Scott's dad, his own godfather who, in his defense, was actually trying to get his dad fired.

Stiles felt like collapsing from the pain, watching as Melissa fired another shot at his chest, his skin cracking like it was porcelain. "Stiles, step back!" Melissa roared at him, anger and hurt evident in her voice as it shook from fear. Stiles wanted to tell the woman who had basically raised him that it wasn't him, but how could he when whoever it was, whatever demon that possessed him decided to hurl the stake at his best friend, earning a cry from his mother. "Scott! Honey, oh, God! Are you alright? Can you hear me?"

Scott didn't respond. It was weird for Stiles because of the fact that he knew, that he could hear every cricket chirping. The feeling was absolutely foreign to Stiles as he saw dust being carried by the wind, the sound of Melissa's shaky breathing. It was weird because Stiles never had the ability of super-hearing and having that power thrust so suddenly into his shoulders— _ears, to be more accurate_ —was a bit unsettling, though not as much as having a random evil spirit take over his body.

Unwillingly, Stiles looked behind his shoulder to take a look at Scott, lying dangerously still on the pavement, eyes glassy and left staring lifelessly across the street. "Oh, Scott?" evil-Stiles— _it was easier that way to identify who was who_ —had the tenacity to laugh at Melissa, who looked horrified at the situation where she had a gun pointed at a boy she raised alongside her son and being absolutely helpless to help Scott to the point where she couldn't even go to his side.

To that point, Stiles wanted nothing more than to break free, so mustered up all the strength he had in his body despite the pain he felt as he tasted something metallic in the back of his mouth. Stiles was no idiot, he knew what it was and he had no trouble thinking of what's possibly wrong with him now. Stiles wanted to just stop it all and yet the best he could manage was a twitch with his right eyebrow, the very same twitch he would get when his father would call him by his _real_ name.

Mieczyłsaw.

"What have you done to my son?!" Melissa demanded for an answer as her grip on the gun tightened, the smell of her palm's sweat becoming so powerful to his smelling. Stiles immediately felt sorry for Scott because if he felt that way, having to smell every single scent within a mile-radius, he'd go nuts.

"Your son," evil-Stiles spat at Scott's body while on Melissa's face was a look of horror Stiles had never seen before. "Your son will be lucky enough to breathe after he's been through what I have in store for him." A sick, twisted grin stretched along evil-Stiles' face when Melissa fired bullet after bullet into his chest until she had no more ammo left. Looking around, Stiles had to wonder why no one had been coming to their aid, wondering why someone was shooting a gun.

There was a kind of laughter that erupted from Stiles' body, like the evil version of him was really amused by something. "You see, the thing is, everyone is so susceptible to tricks that they-they're so easily manipulated to do my bidding," if Stiles could have, he would have cracked a smile. He was getting to evil-Stiles, slowly but surely. Even if the best he could manage was eyebrow twitching and slurred, drunken-like words.

But his victory was short-lived.

Scott finally gave a sign that he's still among the living by giving out an obviously pained groan, and when his best friend pushed himself to lie on his back, Stiles picked up on something cracking, breaking into pieces. Stiles grimaced because he knew that the sound came from Scott's bones breaking off into smaller pieces as kicking gave a rib cage no favors. "Help! Somebody, anybody! Please help me—" it was almost like he could read into Melissa's mind.

' _If only it worked the other way around._ ' Stiles thought hopefully to himself as Scott, who was still on the ground, cough up black blood. Stiles tried to will his feet to Scott's direction, to help his best friend but i t was no use; whatever it was that was possessing him, it's too strong to control, to _take_ control from.

"No one is coming to help you!" evil-Stiles shouted, the loudness of his voice sending vibration strong enough to leave Stiles breathless as if he were punched in the gut. Suddenly feeling pain with his leg, Stiles realized that he held Melissa by her neck, raising her off the ground, seconds away from choking her. "You don't have anyone because I am a god and you," his hand flung out a set of sharp nails— _Stiles had no idea where those came from but he had a pretty solid lead as to what caused it_ —before evil-Stiles dug into the woman's shoulder, blood caking his hand within minutes. " _You_ are going to die a slow and painful death."

Just as evil-Stiles was about to slash Melissa's throat open to leave her to drown in her own blood— _God, Stiles thought to himself, why do I have to hear this psychopath's gruesome commentary?!_ —an arrow _whooshed_ over his face, managing to draw blood from his cheek before catching it in his own hands. Studying the arrow, Stiles knew who it was from.

There are the end of the street stood Allison Argent, beside her stood Isaac and the twins, whose fangs were bared and her father who aimed a gun, behind them stood Noshiko and Ken Yukimura. Lydia, however, gave out a loud banshee screech, an ability she and Deaton have been working on the past few weeks.

Stiles braced himself, trying to prepare his body for whatever kind of damage it would do to him, a banshee's scream. He closed his eyes shut and breathed in deep, waiting for excruciating pain to kick in but it didn't. Wondering what happened, Stiles looked through what evil-Stiles could see and it was a mess: his body, it did something and he didn't know what it was but it probably had to do something with his hands because his palms were aching like crazy and he saw some bruising along the linings of his fingernails.

A sadistic smile once again took place on his lips. "Allison Argent. _Bravo_. You've managed to steal the people I care most about from me." Stiles heard Melissa gasp, breathing in deep when evil-Stiles let go of her, the way she desperately and quickly crawled to her son's side, gently trying to wake him up, urge him to heal and run the hell out of the street where everyone was hypnotized. "But you see, they're going to die and you're going to watch them suffer." Then, Stiles saw it.

No wonder his hands hurt, Stiles thought to himself as evil-Stiles gave out this really loud clap that managed to make a few cars inside garages alarm off. Whatever it was, it messed with everyone supernatural, even Scott who was already on the ground, doubled over in pain. "Stiles, I know you're not you! Give it up!" Argent shouted, warning him and yet he could see it in the older man's eyes that he was afraid. The tell-tale signs were there if the aimed shotgun isn't enough to relay the message.

Stiles wanted to yell out. He's a bit tired of hearing people telling him to give up, that he's not himself. He knows. It's like all the Spiderman movies showing how the radioactive spider managed to bite Peter or the grand sequence of events that eventually resulted in Uncle Ben's death—he gets it, Uncle Ben dies. The old man dies!

Stiles got the message, he understood that he wasn't himself but what he wanted his friends to grasp was the concept that they needed to get the _fuck_ away from him.

And while the merry lot in front of him didn't scatter, Argent shot in his direction, immediately wounding him, resulting from a groan of pain, earning some shocked looks and expressions from his friends. "Perhaps all hope isn't lost for the host after all," Noshiko murmured as her hands around a small black blade tightened. Stiles didn't know why he was feeling a bit antsy around it but he did. He could see this aura enveloping the blade like it was cursed or something.

The spirit that possessed him, the entity that controlled him from the inside was telling him, yelling at him to back away and retreat now but he didn't. Stiles almost cracked a smile because he was finally winning over whatever the fuck it was. "Help!" Stiles managed to say over gritted teeth when excruciating pain radiated from his legs and chest even though his wounds had long healed.

Everyone surged forward but Noshiko, who kept her eyes on him as if she was closely guarding him. Almost like she was expecting something.

Stiles had half a mind to tell her to spit it out when his fingers began throbbing, a pain causing him to yell out and double over. Stiles swore that if light wasn't shining above him from a street lamp, he'd be mistaken for an animal in pain, an animal that should be put out of his misery.

Noshiko's eyes widened, all of a sudden, and broke the blade she had in hand. "Step away from the _nogitsune_!"

 _'Aah_ ,' Stiles thought to himself despite the pain, so that's what this son of a bitch is called.

Stiles didn't know how exactly, but as he watched his friends watch him in horror and shock, he knew that his eyes were flickering between the normal dewy and whiskey brown hue to a dark, more sinister pitch black. "Can't hold it off for much longer," he said through gritted teeth as his strained face muscles slowly relaxed and morphed into a wicked grin. Stiles felt like yelling. He already had control of his body and yet he lost it!

"Stiles?" Lydia asked, her voice rising above the rest of the noise. Stiles wanted nothing more than to tell his girlfriend to look away, to go to safety because he can't guarantee anyone that they'd be leaving the street with their lives. "Stiles, is that still you—" the _nogitsune_ cut her off with a cruel and sinister laugh.

Standing up straight, Stiles first felt the pain of his broken leg when his father decided to practice his pitching with his leg. "Your screaming has put a lot of things into perspective, banshee," Stiles yelled out in frustration while trapped as a spectator in his mind, locked out of his own body, nonetheless. "Certainly provides for clarity one would require." Everything was coming to Stiles now, all the scents he could possibly smell, all the whimpers he could possibly hear from Melissa. "But before I slash your throat to rid you of both your ability to scream and of your life, I've got another person on my agendum."

It was almost like magic, how his body had gone from a few feet away from Allison to a few inches, holding her by the neck, his new nails drawing blood already. "Aah, Noshiko, my old friend!" Stiles was forced to tear his gaze from his friend and felt his lips morph into a cold smirk. "I remember the last time our destinies have crossed paths." A cold and steely expression reigned over the older Japanese woman. "What, doesn't ring a bell? How about your old flame, Rhys?" and then there it was.

Stiles saw it, he didn't know how. There were a lot of things he couldn't exactly explain that went on tonight. Stiles saw the pain that came from her expression, the hurt that had seemed long gone resurfaced through her eyes as if it whatever had happened between them had only occurred yesterday. Stiles felt a bit relief, actually, when his evil-self decided to torment Noshiko instead because, in the corner of his eye, he saw Allison drop to the ground, gasping for a breath of air.

Stiles felt a bit of relief because he knew he wasn't a killer. She'd survive.

"Why that kanji? Why self?" Noshiko stood unafraid in front of him.

Noshiko looked down and gazed at his clenched fists. She smirked. "Because, like how the young Spark is fighting for control, Rhys died as himself and not as a monster. You won't win this battle, trickster." Stiles felt the evil trickster spirit grow angry and furious as Noshiko taunted him. Stiles wanted to yell, now more than ever, to get away because he couldn't fight it off much longer.

Anticipating an attack, Stiles looked away, not wanting to see his body covered in Noshiko's blood but nothing came. Nothing he had expect, anyway. "Noshiko, must you really think of me so vain?" feeling his lips formed a sadistic grin, hell broke loose.

It was more of a blur, actually. Stiles didn't see it all happen because everything passed through so quickly. All he knew was that he was that his father was shooting at him, Argent rushing to get back on his feet, and Scott, well his best friend was trying his best to shield his mother from everything that's happening.

Stiles thought of it all as a huge, grand mess that ravaged the streets. His new and sudden super-hearing picked up on his friends, scrambling to get back on their feet. The _nogitsune_ , deciding to look back on them, Stiles saw that Scott was still heavily injured— _his healing hadn't kicked in yet_ —and had Ethan supporting half his weight. Chris checking on his guns, probably wondering if he has enough bullets to take the fox spirit down.

" _We have to find Stiles—er, the **nogitsune** before it hurts anyone_." Scott said through pained gasps and quick breaths. Stiles felt a pang of guilt, even though he knew it wasn't him, it was still his body. A voice in his head kept telling him that he should have tried harder. He should have been stronger. He was powerless against the _nogitsune_ tearing his best friend apart to pieces. " _We have to get her back._ " Scott repeated that like a prayer, even though his body protested.

Stiles froze instantly, even feeling the _nogitsune_ stopping for a while as time seemed to slow down when he looked at the group of people in the distance. They're missing someone, Stiles thought painfully thought to himself as his super-hearing picked up on a heartbeat from behind him. "Finally, we've afforded some privacy to ourselves." The _nogitsune_ smirked. Stiles picked up on a strongly-scented chemo-signal. Realizing that it was weird, having the ability to smell confidence and disgust like some Bath  & Body Works scent or a smelly gym sock, he decided that after all of this, he'd leave the sniffing to the werewolves.

"You won't get away with this. Stiles, he's strong—we'll save our friend." Finally, the _nogitsune_ turned around and Stiles felt like breaking down.

Before him was the broken form of Allison Argent, her hands tied behind her back, a leg broken in three different places and a blooded lip to accompany it all. "When will you learn that it's not your friend Stiles I'm after?" the _nogitsune_ asked tauntingly before raising his fist and knocking Allison out cold, the pain absorbed had given him enough strength to block him out for what seemed like eternity. "Don't worry, Spark." The fox spirit said sadistically. "The darkness is only filled with demons. It's not like you're unfamiliar with them."

And just like that, he was alone in the dark.

* * *

 ** _So, haven't updated in a long time (obviously). Spoilers for the next chapter: character death!_**


	16. CHAPTER XV - ALLISON

**SUCCUMB**

 **CHAPTER XV - ALLISON**

* * *

Allison struggled to free herself from the ropes that were tightly tied around her hands. Her mind darted back to when she had first started her training to become a hunter and cursed under her breath when she realized, that like a talented magician, the _nogitsune_ had removed all of her knives and all of her weapons and she has no way of escaping with the tightly tied ropes enveloping both her legs and her hands.

The _nogitsune_ chuckled darkly, and even though Allison knew that it wasn't one of her closest friends, Stiles Stilinski— _the very same Stiles who, despite his body's gasping protests, served as a human messenger for her and Scott when her family kept watching them closely_ —she couldn't help but feel a pang of betrayal, or fight this growing fear for Stiles, her friend, and not the fox spirit who decided to wreak havoc when it escaped purgatory.

"Even if you were to break your thumbs, Miss Argent, you would still find yourself incapable of escaping." Stiles' painfully familiar voice rang out and she couldn't help but think that _it's Stiles_. She knew it was wrong, but she would shudder every time he would speak. "We can't have you running off, now can we?" the _nogitsune_ tore his gaze from the broken window and turned around, his face had a sickening grin and his eyes held a psychotic glint that made Allison think to herself that what she's seeing couldn't just be from the trickster spirit.

Allison knew, somehow, that somewhere deep inside Stiles, there's this killer instinct waiting to be released. She knew that there was this line inside of Stiles' mind just waiting to be crossed for this side of him to appear. That it was only a matter of when and how. Allison couldn't help but think that maybe this darkness and evilness inside of him was innate and that it only took a matter of triggering.

Finally resigning, Allison's shoulder eased down and her eyes shifted, looking passively around the wooden cabin room she was in. Taking a moment to take in her surroundings, Allison looked up to see a single light bulb illuminating her spot by the column that supported the small cabin. Dust caked around the entire room, though she wasn't sure because the light didn't reach the far off spots and corners. However, near to the door, was an electronic LED clock.

"Where am I?" she asked, hoping that her captor would spare her that detail the very least. "Where did you take me?" she coughed, the dust trickling her nose.

The _nogitsune_ tilted his head to a side, painstakingly like how Stiles would when he would try to figure out a mystery or how to save more money when ordering the value meal from the Big Belly Burger near the hospital without sacrificing the large fries. "Now, where's the fun in that when I'm to _just give away_ the answer? Figure it out on your own!" the _nogitsune_ grumbled before waving his hand, as if to dismiss the thought. "I might as well give you back to that ragtag group of abominations if I were to tell you."

Allison smirked. "That would be nice." She remarked dryly, earning an annoyed glare and for the _nogitsune_ to narrow his eyes on her.

"And here I thought only the banshee possessed a sharp tongue." Then, all of a sudden, a devilish smirk appeared on Stiles' face— _ **nogitsune** , she corrected herself because that's not her friend_—and grabbed her by the chin, the few meters in between them had suddenly vanished when the _nogitsune_ appeared before her. "A feisty woman. I like that." Without thought, Allison spat on the _nogitsune_ 's face, the smirk on his face long gone.

In a second, Allison felt pain explode as she tasted something metallic in her mouth.

"I can see why McCall is so infatuated with you. Though I do honestly prefer the Yukimura girl. After all, she had more power than you could imagine, much prettier, too." That had hurt Allison in a way she had not expected it to hurt. And the fact that it came from Stiles' face and it reached her ears with his voice didn't help ease the pain. "Scott could have had someone who could match his strength, someone who could have handled him in ways you couldn't—and yet he chose _you_." It came out harsher than Allison expected it to be.

Steeling herself up for what seems like hours of degrading and snide comments, Allison held her chin up and gritted her teeth. "You can play your mind tricks on me all you want, but you won't get anything from me." The _nogitsune_ , however, rolled his eyes and ignored her.

"But it's obvious that the love you have for each other, it's the type of love people write epics about. It's the kind of love that never dies." Allison had to listen closely, she had to replay that over and over again in her mind just to make sure she heard it right. There was a pang of jealousy, she was sure of it. And it wasn't from the _nogitsune_. She was sure of that. "To the point where he'd choose you over everyone else." For a second, Allison breath got caught in her throat.

Even if it was only for a second, Allison knew that it was Stiles. The slumped shoulders and the cloudy whiskey-brown eyes that she came to familiarize herself with. It was unmistakably Stiles Stilinski who knelt in front of her. " _Stiles_?" she whispered in a shaky voice, her breathing already uneven because she was so sure that it's her friend. Deciding to act against her better judgement, Allison tried to reason with the man in front of her and tried to reach out for Stiles.

There was this sharp breathing. Allison could notice that Stiles' fingers were balled into a fist and that blood began to stain his pale skin. Allison could see the tense muscles and she realized that she had managed to reach out to her friend, that Stiles was actually fighting for control.

After a few minutes of struggling, she saw a pained expression. She saw pain reflect in Stiles' eyes. "Allison?" Stiles asked and she let out a breath of relief that she hadn't realized she was holding in. "What. . . ? Where are we?" Stiles tried to stand up but his ankle failed him and dropped to his knees.

Allison quickly looked at Stiles and noticed the blood staining his clothes, the bruises that turned to a dark hue of purple. "You're not healing." It wasn't a question when Allison breathed it out.

Stiles grimaced darkly with shallow and quick breaths of air. "Figured out that my body will only heal when my roommate up here," he pointed at his head and chuckled weakly and without humor, " _el nogitsune_ is in control. And that, if he gets hurt when he's in control, he wouldn't feel a thing but. . ." he trailed off and Allison noticed the cuts and bullet wounds that began to reopen.

"You would be the one to feel all the pain." She finished off, horrified at the sudden revelation, wishing to herself that she hadn't shot too much arrows into him. "Oh, God, Stiles! I'm sorry—I didn't know!" she tried to apologize when he began to slowly untie the knots that trapped her to the column.

"It's okay." Allison felt a pang of guilt when he assured her, especially when she remembered that she was actually scared of him. "You guys, you couldn't have possibly known." He said bashfully after finally managing to untie the rope around her hands. Allison rubbed her wrists, feeling the rope burn her skin, but the guilt she felt far outweighed the discomfort her wrists felt.

Stiles looked around worriedly, his eyes racing.

That prompted Allison to take a look around her surroundings, finally free of the threat that was _nogitsune_ who restricted her every movement. However, as Allison began to move towards the door, she noticed that Stiles was rigid and his knees gave. Stiles fell to the ground and he was practically shaking. Worry began to swim in her vision. "Stiles?" Allison asked in a small voice, almost scared to ask. "Are you still there?"

The eerie silence Stiles gave off didn't exactly inspire confidence for Allison, leading her to grab the knob and her breathing slowing down.

After what seemed like an eternity, Stiles breathed out. Allison mirrored the action, let out a breath of air she didn't realize she was holding in. "The _nogitsune_?" Allison asked, however she regretted even mentioning the spirit's name considering the look it brought on Stiles' face. And besides, she scolded herself for being insensitive, he blames himself enough for everything that's been happening around.

Stiles, however, didn't answer her. Instead, he just stood up rather too quickly— _Allison noticed how he grunted in a low voice and his face twisted in pain_ —and went straight for the door, pausing when he reached her hands. Together, they went out of the small cabin and were greeted by tall trees and the dark, night sky. Beside her, Stiles cursed under his breath before turning to her, giving her a sheepish smile. "So, most of the time the _nogitsune_ -spirit-thingamajig kept me in the dark and I'm kinda hoping you know where we are. So, _do_ you?"

There was this strange expression on his face, something that made Allison take a step back, to put some distance between them. There wasn't some underlying tone in his voice but there was something that rang in a wrong way with her. A part of her thought of the _nogitsune_ , when, she felt a painful stinging on her forehead. Frowning, Allison lifted a finger and grimaced at the sight of blood that stained her hand. "Guess he kept me in the dark, too," Allison realized that she was knocked out earlier.

And her massive migraine stood as a testament to that.

More so, the fact that it was bleeding made her frown deeper.

Looking around, Allison took in the forest scent, remembering her father's notes that, at nights like these, mists and forest scents can be thick enough to mask a human's scent. "Guess we're stuck here for a while." Allison was worried about the _nogitsune_. She was scared shitless, honestly, wondering what's to happen if Stiles were to suddenly lose control. "Come on, we have to find some place to stay."

Stiles didn't move and was, however, more focused on her bleeding forehead. "You're bleeding." He said simply, his eyes looking around as if there was something to be done. Pausing for a second, Allison saw Stiles scramble into action, in deep focus to do whatever it was he wanted to do. "No. We've just got to find higher ground." Stiles muttered loud enough for her to hear, turning around frantically to meet her. "Your scent, yeah, that'd be enough to get us rescued."

Allison frowned when Stiles ran to the nearest hill he could find and started climbing despite the unstable terrain. "Stiles, slow down!" she called out, running after her friend, unsure if he was still Stiles or if he was the _nogitsune_. When she finally caught up to him, she panted. "Where are we going?" she half whispered. Allison didn't know why she was whispering exactly because it wasn't like they were hiding from someone.

Stiles looked unfazed, a look of firm determination was on his face. "There," he said, panting and breathing a few deep breaths when he stopped to point at the top of the mini-hill. "We need to get up there. There's a better chance for your scent to get picked up by those hormonal wolf-boys." His nose scrunched up in disgust and Allison could practically make out who he was thinking of: Aiden Steiner, Lydia's ex-boyfriend who couldn't seem to grasp the concept of the word ' _no_ '.

Allison stopped to breathe when she saw Stiles, pale in the moonlight and the bags under his eyes grew more darker and prominent. Allison felt herself shiver at the cold wind that blew through the trees as they moved up north as a passing thought plagued her. A cold corpse looked a whole lot better than Stiles.

Feigning exhaustion, Allison let her knees buckle— _which wasn't much of a deal considering she was weak and tired_ —to the ground and called out for her friend. Irritated, Stiles scaled a few steps back and helped her up to her feet. Allison protested and hissed. It was only now when she realized that she had a large gash running from her knee to her ankle. "Can't we take a break?"

What she got as a response, Allison could never forget the black and almost dead irises glaring back at her. "Can't you see what's at stake here?!" he angrily hissed at her. Stiles was shaking with anger.

 _Or fear_ , a poisonous voice answered in Allison's mind. A wave of helplessness washed over her as she imagine the pain the _nogitsune_ managed to inflict before deciding to knock her out cold.

Allison gulped, mentally berating herself for leaving the shack without managing to search for a few of her weapons. "Stiles, we're both tired and hurt. All I'm asking for is a break." Stiles scoffed and pushed her up hill, supporting her weight by throwing her arm over his shoulder. Allison honestly never felt so scared of Stiles in her life.

"We're not stopping. We can't. _I_ can't!" there was this fear that trembled in his voice that made Allison jump. She wanted nothing more than to get away from Stiles, fearing the worst, thinking that the _nogitsune_ will take over. "We need to get to them." Then suddenly, Stiles turned to her, his eyebrows scrunched up together. He looked like he's had a panic attack. "What time is it? What time is it?!" he asked frantically.

Allison watched Stiles carefully. "Stiles, are you okay?" Allison knew that she was practically sailing on uncharted waters. She never expected or prepared for possessed friends and kidnapping when she began packing her stuff up to move to Beacon Hills.

Stiles was unfazed, still looking at her without blinking. "You. You know how to tell the time, don't you?" Allison wanted to lie and tell him that she can't but her heart tugged at her in a way that told not to. It was, as if, Stiles had the ability to tell if she was lying and considering the madness she went through just for one day, Allison decided to play it safe and tell the truth.

Allison looked up to the night sky only to find it covered by branches and emerald green leaves. She sighed and faced Stiles, shaking her head. "I can't get a good view of the stars. There's no way to tell right now." Hoping that her inability to tell the time would somehow convince Stiles to take a break or realize that they're way in over their heads, Allison was disappointed when he grabbed her arm and started climbing their way up the hill again.

In between panting and breathing in deep, Stiles looked back at her direction, his ever-present determination written all across his face. "Once we reach the top, they'll get our scents and once they do, we'll be saved." Then, a flash of irritation and frustration crossed Stiles' face and Allison took a step back, not knowing entirely what to do. "It's simple enough. Why can't you understand that?"

A surge of courage and strength exploded in her chest. Allison glared back and pointed an accusing finger at her friend, hoping that an outburst would somehow guilt her friend back to control. "Tell me what's the use of being rescued when we're brought back as lifeless corpses?!" Allison remembered Cora and her dry remark. It was a bitter scoff but it came off as an insult to her and her friends. "I will not let Scott find another body, let alone ours because that will _break_ him."

For a second, Allison saw Stiles' eyes soften and water. She knew that it was her friend and she was sure that whatever struggle for control Stiles was fighting inside his mind, she had given him a push enough to have the upper hand. "Allison," he said, looking away guiltily before turning around, climbing again. "We have to go."

Finally seeing the reason in his eyes, Allison followed Stiles and began trekking her way up the hill, following her friend as they reached the top. The wind was bowing strongly towards the city and Allison felt hope. The pack was going to find them and once they did, they'd find a way how to get rid of _nogitsune_ from Stiles.

Dropping to her knees, Allison gave a shaky laugh. She made it and she managed to keep her friend in control. A small smile crept up on her lips. This was her victory. Looking to her side, Allison saw Stiles, antsy as ever as his fingers fidgeted as if a colony of ants were marching up his pants. Allison's shoulders tensed up as she noticed that he had a lost expression, somewhat guarded and jaded. "Stiles?"

Stiles turned to look at her, void of all expression, and breathed calmly. "What time is it?" he asked slowly and calmly, his voice betrayed no emotion as he asked in a monotone. "Allison, I need to know what time it is."

Putting some distance between her and Stiles, Allison looked up to the sky when she heard a roar, not quite like Scott's but it was definitely familiar. Trying to remember, she remembered the time when the _darach_ had given them all a memorable experience with an ice bath and a hunt for their parents. "It's Aiden!" she breathed out enthusiastically, hoping that Stiles would be pleased with that but he wasn't.

Allison looked over to her friend and it was like a kaleidoscope of feelings, of expression that were being flashed through his face, like he didn't know exactly how he should react.

Stiles looked the same. He looked collected and cold, completely unlike the warm Stiles she knew as her friend. "What time is it?" he asked again, staring at her as if she was the key to a puzzle or a mystery he's been trying to solve. "Allison, you can _tell_ the time, so right now? I need you to tell me." He pointed at the sky, his arms now crossed. A part of Allison was afraid that she might die. "Read the alignment." Stiles said, his voice rang with a particular sharp edge that sounded like a dangerous foe.

Allison shook her head. "No," Stiles tilted his head to a side and, in that angle, she saw that her friend was long gone from control". It was the _nogitsune_ she was talking to. A part of Allison felt like scolding herself—she had allowed herself to be baited to a place where the only way to escape fast enough was to throw herself off the hill and plummet some 50 feet down-slope.

 _Fuck_ , she mentally cursed.

Allison knew from the start that she had no weapon, ever since she woke up after being hit square in the head. She had no defense against the _nogitsune_ except for the jagged rock she managed to pick up on the way to the top of the hill. A part of her was ready to strike the _nogitsune_ dead but she saw its wounds healing. Allison remembered that Stiles was the one taking all the hits while the trickster spirit was in control.

She dropped the jagged rock and the _nogitsune_ smirked, laughed. "Ms. Argent," he stepped forward into the moonlight and Allison saw the drastic change. Stiles' face was far more pale than it ever should. He almost looked anemic at this point. "You're losing your touch—" he looked at the noticeable jagged rock that's seemingly out of place on a patch of green grass. "Oh, and look, apparently you've lost your ability to use a weapon against dear _Stiles_ here, too," the _nogitsune_ hissed her friend's name like it was poison.

The tension made the atmosphere so heavy in every sense. Allison was on high alert, her skin covered in goosebumps, not really sure on what she should really do. She didn't want to hurt her friend, not when she found out what was happening to him but there was a sense of dread that if she didn't, then she would die that night.

The thought sent shivers down her spine, her mind plagued with the image of her death— _brutal and gruesome_ —and realized that she couldn't do both. Allison stood still for a moment, watching the _nogitsune_ slowly make his way to her before she turned on her heel and ran downhill, branches scratching her and a wounded knee stinging every once and then as she made her way through the trees, trying her best to put some distance between her and the _nogitsune_ when she bumped into someone.

Allison fell to the ground and when she looked up, expecting to see Stiles' face, she saw Aiden who helped her get up. "Allison!" he yelled, his hand on her arm, tugging her to get a move on but her feet remained glued to the spot she stood on. "What are you doing? We've got get outta here—Scott's been worried sick about you!" for a second, all oxygen had been sucked out of her lungs and her hardened and fear-worn expression softened in an instant.

All this while, she had forgotten about. Allison didn't like to admit it but she was worried about him especially when he first told her and the pack about the _nogitsune_ problem with Kira and her family a few days ago, of how the host is supposed to be all sick and moody and the first person that came to her mind was her boyfriend.

But she's wrong. It was Stiles.

Staying firm, Allison shook her head and pointed towards the hill, anticipating Stiles. "Allison! What the fuck are you doing?" Aiden was really pissed, that much Allison could tell until she spotted something dark around his shirt, an unmistakable dark, dried stain that she knew all too well—it was blood, werewolf blood and judging the size, a lot of it was spilled and lost.

"What happened?" she questioned, her heartbeat racing wild.

Aiden, probably noting her distress, waved it off. "Relax, it's not mine." He said curtly as if he didn't want her to pry but she noticed.

Allison narrowed her eyes and grabbed his shoulder, turning him to face her as he tried to drag her away and back to where her friends and family are but she resisted and stood her ground. "Whose blood is it?!" she yelled, forgetting for a second that she might give off their location. In the end, she paid no mind, repeated the question and glared at Aiden who sighed and caved into her demand.

"It's Scott's, okay?" her eyes widened before Aiden continued. "Scott, he. . .he's doing everything he can to find you and then there was a fight, shit happened, and I guess the pack couldn't do much to protect him but he's okay now. He's fine now but he's reckless in his stupid crusade to find you, not that finding you is stupid." Aiden said, his head bent down just a bit and his voice ambiguous, almost like he's guilty.

Allison gave him a pat on the back, wordlessly reassuring him that it's not his fault or anything. "How's everyone else?" she asked, agreeing to slowly walk away if ever so slightly, her eyes still reeling back to the slope, waiting for a sign that the _nogitsune_ is near.

A faint smirk appeared on Aiden's face, probably as if something was almost amusing and it probably was if it weren't for the situation at hand. "Your father's handling your kidnapping better than your boyfriend is." There was a rustle heard from behind them. It was faint and if the preserve wasn't so silent in the night, Allison probably wouldn't have heard it but even so, Aiden stiffened up and considering the werewolf's sense of smell, there was reason enough to be scared.

Slowly limping to Aiden's side, hoping to see the _nogitsune_ and try to draw Stiles out when she was stopped. Aiden had placed a hand on her shoulder while another hand gave her a set of keys and pointed her to a direction. "What's this?" she knew the answer to her question but she asked anyway. Allison didn't know why she did that but she had the need to stay.

Allison asked and asked, shooting sharp and pointed stares but Aiden was fixed on the slope, waiting for the _nogitsune_ , when he sighed, irritated at her. "Listen, I know you're a hunter and all that but right now you're injured so leave this one to me, okay?" Allison saw the logic in it and she tried to find other reasons to not follow. But there wasn't, not right now when the most practical choice is to get medical attention and go back to Aiden with the others as back-up.

Allison really wanted to stay but the look of her knee wasn't isn't a glowing recommendation for her to stay and fight the _nogitsune_ without hurting Stiles. "Alright, I'll leave but just know this: you can't seriously hurt Stiles, not the body anyway because even he's physically healing, the _nogitsune_ won't feel any pain, it's all Stiles." She explained, warning Aiden not to hurt her friend and while there was confusion and reluctance from Aiden's part, he eventually nodded, promising that he wouldn't hurt him.

"Now go." He said, turning his back on her and looked at the slope, waiting for Stiles, his fangs and claws bared out, and his eyes were glowing blue. "Get to Scott and the others at Derek's apartment." She nodded, heading off in the opposite direction and despite limping for what seemed like the better half of the night, she reached Aiden's bike.

Hopping on the bike, she started the engine and headed for Derek's apartment. She was already out of the reserve and driving along the long stretch of road that lead into the heart of the city when she caught something move in her side-mirrors. At first, Allison disregarded it, chalking it up to maybe stress and exhaustion or just a shadow. But the second time was brief, not as long as the first, and that was when she began to panic, to be scared that maybe the nogitsune had caught up with her.

Allison thought of Aiden, how she had this feeling. It was like a heavy weight in her chest, like a boa given her a warm embrace. It was kind of like how Lydia would describe a premonition. But in the end, Allison didn't get to think much before her world turned around in a full 360 degree turn and her vision faded away into darkness.

* * *

When Allison woke up, she was in her room. Light was streaming through her window and she could tell, by the color, it was past noon. Sitting up rapidly, she groaned in pain, her body sore from everything that happened and when she lifted the covers off of her body, she saw the bandages that were wrapped around her legs and her arm.

Allison began to think what the hell she got into to get those wounds and cuts.

"You're awake." A voice came from the door and there stood Scott, who wore a black polo shirt, and had this neutral expression that was so hard to read even though she knew her boyfriend. "How are you feeling?" he asked, placing a glass of water on her nightstand where her phone was. There, she saw her face which was, miraculously, not that scratched up and didn't suffer from whatever happened to her that night and— _oh_ , she thought to herself.

Allison saw the keys beside her phone, all of a sudden looking all out of place and wrong. "I was in a motorcycle accident." She remembered the long stretch of road, the lights of the establishments and 24/7 fast food chains was starting to pop up when she saw a shadow in her side mirror for the second time and knew then and there that something was following her.

"Yeah, you were." Scott confirmed, his eyebrows furrowed together and Allison knew then that he blamed himself for what happened to her. It was a classic Scott move, blaming himself for everything that's happening even though he didn't do anything wrong or he's not the one at fault or even if there's absolutely nothing he can do. "We found you near the new subdivision, near Kira's place. Her parents were actually the ones who found you."

Allison nodded, reminding herself to thank Kira but she couldn't seem to focus. Her eyes were glued to Aiden's keys. "Where's Stiles?" she asked, her mind still not put to rest as if there was still another question she had to ask.

Scott cleared his throat. "We got him virtually untouched, thanks to Aiden. He's at a bunker that Noshiko owns. We're still finding out ways on how we'll to get rid of the _nogitsune_ out of Stiles." Scott avoided her looks. "We're probably going to focus on this for the next few days, just to make sure that Stiles can start recovering from this considering that every blow we gave him, he felt it." Scott said quietly.

Allison nodded and while it did lighten the weight on her chest, it's not enough. There's still this tightening that she couldn't understand until she saw Scott staring at the keys, at _Aiden's_ keys. The look in her boyfriend's eyes was proof enough that something happened and although Allison knew, she asked anyways.

"Where's Aiden?"

That was when she noticed the black polo, the dark jeans and the smart shoes. "Allison," Scott began, his voice coming off as unsure, not knowing how to actually answer her. "When the _nogitsune_ took you, we tried to hunt it down and when we found it, a lot of us got hurt and I got hurt real bad." Allison reached out for Scott but he moved away. She frowned, not sure where this was going. "The only clue we knew of where the _nogitsune_ kept you was in the preserve and the only person well enough to find you was Aiden." Scott's voice broke. "Aiden. . .he didn't make it."

Allison's vision got blurry and she felt tears run through her face. She didn't know Aiden much but she knew how much Lydia cared for him and she saw how much Ethan loved him. The thought of them hurting, the thought of their pack's promise to protect them broke her heart and the sight of Scott so defeated, she had no words. Instead, she took him in her arms but he moved away again.

"Scott?"

Her boyfriend stood up from the bed and shook his head. "This is my fault." Allison tried to tell him otherwise but he wouldn't listen. "I. . .I made promise to you that I would put you first and I did. I will always put you first." He said firmly, his expression scared.

"Scott," she said softly, her eyes searching his for a reason for his distress.

"And I made promise to them that I'd protect them, Allison, but I failed because I was too consumed by the fact and I became divided and if that happens again," his voice broke and his eyes were filled with tears, "Allison, if the _nogitsune_ would take you again and if I'm to divided to focus on what has to be done, I'd lose you _for good_ and I can't do that. I can't let that happen." Scott was pacing around, panic in his voice and anxiety in his expression. "I can't afford to be blindsided by anything if I'm going to make sure that the _nogitsune_ is defeated."

"Scott?"

"I think we need some space for a while," Allison's face fell and she knew what was happening. Scott was breaking up with her. "I don't know how I can move on with everything and keep everyone safe if I'm only going to have one foot in the ship. I have to be focused and I can't afford to be impartial and reckless like how I am when I'm with you."

Allison lost her voice for a second, her mouth hanging open for a moment before she was able to recollect her thoughts, compose herself again. "We're breaking up." It wasn't a question. A heavy weight rested on her chest and Scott's face was filled with worry.

"No, no, no." He said quickly, walking towards her bed, kneeling in front of her. "We're not breaking up, we're not. It's just we're gonna need some time apart, just enough to figure things out with the nogitsune."

Allison shook her head, remembering how she broke up with him in her last room. "That's what you said last time." She scoffed almost bitterly. "And look where that got us, months of being distant and damage we coudln't undo. In the end we just became damaged jerks. "

Scott gave her a sad smile. "Yeah, but I also remember saying that we'd get back together and we did." He countered, taking her hand and kissing it before pressing it to his chest, just above his heart. "It's just some time apart for a little while, only for a little while." He promised, pressing a kiss on her temple. "We'd get back together." There was a teasing smile on his lips, as much as he could manage with the recent loss of someone Allison knew her boyfriend began to care for.

"Scott. . ." she protested but he was having none of it, standing up and headed for the door.

" _No such thing as werewolves_ , remember?"


	17. CHAPTER XVI - SCOTT

**SUCCUMB**

 **CHAPTER XVI - SCOTT**

* * *

The school bell rang.

Scott winced inwardly and grabbed his stuff littered across his desk and shoved it all into a messy pile inside his backpack. He groaned as his head pulsed with a splitting migraine and glared as he walked past through the students in front of him, barely muttering audible apologies for basically shoving the poor and unknowing freshmen out of the way.

"You know," a voice piped up behind him. "If I didn't know any better, I'd say that Allison was the one who broke up with you and not _the other way around_." Lydia appeared beside him all of a sudden. Scott sighed, knowing well that Lydia Martin's ability to come and go as she pleases is a wonder even the supernatural world couldn't explain.

"Well," Scott began, clutching the strap of his backpack tighter, "you do know better, Lydia, so can you lay off my case?"

Lydia smiled mischivously. "Now, where's the fun in that?" Scott groaned and rolled his eyes. "With the way you're acting lately, just get a nice Porsche and you and Jackson could finally be friends."

Scott stopped in his tracks and turned to face Lydia, who raised her brow expectantly. "Fine." He said, exasperatedly. "What do you want, Lydia?" he asked, fighting off a yawn.

Lydia smiled victoriously before the grin faded from her face, a more serious expression taking place. "You two were finally together after months of pining, Scott," he groaned when he realized where the conversation was heading. "I mean, you're both sulking miserably." She pointed out

Scott scoffed. "Hold on, we're not sulking-"

Lydia cut him off. "Yeah, you're not fooling anybody." Scott frowned and Lydia hummed. "Not with that face." She sighed and gave him a concerned look. "Listen, Scott, this isn't good anymore and whatever noble reason you have for deciding to call it quits with Allison—" Lydia glared at some random sophomore who gave Scott a flirtatious wave, "—is obviously not for the best."

Scott's face softened. "Lydia, I appreciate this but it's not even a break up." He nervously fiddled with his backpack strap. "I need to keep this pack safe and when I'm with Allison, I keep on forgetting about the fact that she can take care of herself." He looked down, feeling guilty that he had to hear from Lydia to know how Allison was. "But with the _nogitsune_ , I can't be divided and I can't always have her in my mind, worrying my head off everytime he'd take the people I care about."

Lydia sighed and placed her hand on Scott's shoulder, pulling him into a hug. "Scott," she said when he took a step back. "I'm a harbinger of death, Allison's from a hunter family who chose to allign and protect werewolves, and you're the first true alpha in the continent for a century—we'll never be out of danger." She sighed wistfully and gave him a sad smile. "But it's really comforting knowing you're with the people you care about, the _right_ people."

They walked out of the building and into the parking lot.

Scott felt an arrow of guilt hit him in the chest as Lydia looked away. Scott's eyes landed on a parking spot near a tree and remembered the blue jeep that seemed like a fixture there. "You're right." He confessed, earning a surprised look from Lydia. "But I can't be distracted. Not now." Scott faced Lydia, his expression earnest and apologetic. "But I promise you, Lydia. I'll make things right with Allison. I just need time to deal with everything first."

Lydia caved in and gave him a tight smile. "Alright. I believe you," she said quietly. Lydia looked around, checking if anyone wad near them before asking in a hushed tone, "How's Stiles?"

Scott's face fell and remembered his friend and his shift at the clinic. "Actually, I'm heading there right now, do you want to go with me and check on him?" he asked Lydia and second after, her chemo-signal spiked. Scott breathed out. She was worried, not knowing what she'd even see. "Of course, you don't have to come if you don't want to." Scott offered as he felt guilty, not sensing her nervousness.

But to his surprise, Lydia nodded and pursed her lips. "Can you drive me there?" she asked, and Scott looked down and saw her fingers trembling when her eyes widened. "Oh, wait. Your bike."

Scott shook his head. He fished his phone from his pocket and held it up. "Just give me a second, I'll call Isaac to pick it up after he gets back from his trip with Argent." He sent a quick text to his beta as Lydia's eyebrows shot up in curiousity.

"What trip?" she asked as they got in her car.

Scott looked surprise. "You mean, Allison didn't tell you?"

Lydia shook her head. "Tell me what?" she asked as he revved the engine and started backing the car up, and drove out of the school's parking lot.

Scott looked at the road, giving Lydia passing glances. "So, uh, when Argent finished his hunter training, Gerard—" Lydia gave this dramatic shoulder shudder and he smiled at her attempt to lighten the mood. "Anyways, Gerard sent him on this mission with the Japanese mafia and that was when he first encountered a _nogitsune_."

Lydia looked at him, her eyes wide with shock. "You mean, he's dealt with this before?"

"Yeah."

Then, as he was driving through the road. "How'd he get away?"

Scott let out a breath of air as he took a turn. "Well, with the _nogitsune_? It was easy—he wasn't the target so he never really faced the _nogitsune_." Scott says, his tone had this edge of bitterness, wanting the same for his pack but that was never the case. "As for the shadow figures, _onis_ , Argent has a theory." Scott held the steering wheel with one hand and revealed a necklace with a cloudy silver ingot. "Argent thinks that the _onis_ can be defeated with silver."

He handed over the necklace to Lydia. She studied the metal. "Why?" she asked.

"Argent told me that when a hunter finishes training, they're given this ceremonial smelting thing." Scott saw from the corner of his eye that Lydia turned the ingot around. She traced the logo of the fleur de lis. "See a hunter would have to smelt an ammo or an arrowhead from silver as a sign that they've finished training."

Lydia nodded, her chemo-signal filling the car. Scott knew she's caught on. "And Argent managed to take escape alive." Lydia managed to sum up and Scott nodded at her.

"Exactly." He said. "So, Argent took off with Isaac and Allison to find the mafia who dealt with a nogitsune all those years ago." A smile crept up his face when he remembered something. "The best part? Argent has a plan to meet up as an arms dealer and since he's a familiar face, Isaac's going to do the negotiating. He's even wearing a suit!" Scott laughed and saw Lydia flash a smile as he took another turn and parked near the backdoor entrance of the clinic.

Getting out of the car, Scott grabbed his back and took out a key. He unlocked the door and went inside, smiling at the dogs who recognized him. "Hey, buddy!" Scott said to a husky puppy in a cage who jumped enthusiastically at him.

Scott looked over his shoulder and smiled at Lydia who was cooing over a chihuahua. "Hey," she said, her attention undivided as she placed her hand on the glass. Scott laughed as the chihuahua licked the glass where her hand was.

Scott heard Lydia's heart beat and she smiled to himself. "You feeling better?" Lydia snapped up and looked at him. She nodded and she walked across the boarding kennels and caught up to him. "I'd always pass through the kennels when I feel down." He confessed, reaching for the light switch to before leaving the room.

"Thanks for that, Scott," Lydia breathed out. "I honestly didn't know how I'd feel with everything happening." Her face fell and when Scott got a whiff of her chemo-signal, her modd slightly dampened. "With Stiles," she whispered quietly as if she didn't want anyone to know how she felt.

Scott gave her a tight and brave smile. "Hey, we can get through this. I know we can."

Lydia nodded and went on to the reception area. Scott settled for the desk, trting to find the key for the basement as Lydia fiddled with the " _Sorry we're closed_ " sign that hung on the door. "Hey, why is the clinic closed?"

Scott felt his fingers collide with something cold and small, a key that had a familiar lining and scent. When he looked up, instead of answering Lydia's question, he held the key in the air for her to see. "Because of this." He said as she went inside the examniation and surgery room and made a beeline towards a door in the corner and unlocked it only to reveal a poorly lit flight of stairs.

Scott began his decent down the stairs when Lydia caught up to him. "Yes, _interesting_. Keys open doors but it really doesn't answer questions, now does it, Scott." She said, sarcasm dripping from her tone as his muscles tensed as he felt danger lurk in the shadows of the basement as the floor boards of the stairs creak with their weight.

When Scott finally reached the ground, he went over to a small spot near the stairs and flipped the lights witch on and the sound of electricity buzzed. Slowly, the light bulbs flickered on and illuminated the basement. Lydia, who was still at the last step of the stairs, gasped as the basement revealed its secret.

It was Stiles, (duct) taped and tied to a chair with rope that reeked of salt and mountain ash and holy water. The chair he sat in was screwed to the ground and around the chair was a large insignia that consisted of some writings, a star, and a circle painted with white acrylic.

"What's that?"

Scott crossed his arms as he watched Stiles, whose head was bowed down. He heard his breathing, steady and controlled as his heart beat. Scott gritted his teeth and slowky let out a breath of air. Stiles was asleep.

"This is the reason why I was absent for a few days and why the clinic is closed today." Scott remembered the feeling of rope burnung his skin and winced at the pain knowing it was caused by someone who eerily looked like his best friend thrashing around and mocking him.

Lydia remained silent, her hand pressed against her lips at the sight of her boyfriend tied down like an animal.

"For the first few hours, knowing that we couldn't hurt the _nogitsune_ without hurting Stiles, we had our hands full. We needed a way to keep Stiles locked and put away without breaking free every five minutes." When Stiles' head twitched, Scott felt his nails dig into the palm of his hands. "So, Argent called some backup who specialized in dealing with demons."

Lydia squirmed uncomfortably. "Demons?" her voice was an octave higher. "Like _angels-and-demons_ demons?" he nodded and pointed at a telephone that hung on the wall. Lydia walked towards it and saw a number with a name scribbled across it.

When Lydia opened her mouth to ask, Scott beat her to it. "They're the Winchester brothers. They've been dealing with the supernatural their whole lives and apparently, it's like hunter _royalty_ even when compared to the Argent family." Scott cleared his throat with a cough and soon, Lydia stood beside her, fear radiating off her body. "But anyways, they specialize with demons and ghosts."

Lydia's brows furrowed. The scent of her fear was replaced with a different chemo-signal, confusion. "But this is a _nogitsune_." She stressed the word, pointing to Stiles with her hand. "A dark _kitsune_."

Scott nodded. "Yeah, but according to their archives in their bunker, a nogitsune is a demon trickster fox spirit." Scott pointed at the insignia painted on the ground. "And with that, there's no way Stiles would get out."

"What is that anyway?" she asked, examining the insignia.

"It's a Devil's trap. Think of it like a mountain ash circle but for demons." Scott explained and Lydia nodded. "Though it doesn't keep them from going in." Scott mentioned offhandedly.

Lydia fidgeted as she saw a part of the sigil that had thinning paint. "What happens if the line is broken?" Scott's eyes had been focused on Stiles, watching hos every move as Lydia examined the Devil's Trap.

"Same thing that happens to a mountain ash circle—it becomes useless." Scott sighed and uncrossed his arms as Lydia stood outside the edge of the Devil's Trap. "That's why Deaton went out to find a garden where a _nogitsune_ had been killed. He says that a rare poison would be there, a type of lichen called letharia vulpina or something like that."

Lydia remained near the edge. "You mean fox poison?" she asked.

Scott moved his eyes from Stiles to Lydia, sensing something different with her tone and her chemo-signal. To Scott, it felt emotionless, almost like barren. "Yeah, I mean, we can't rely on a Devil's Trap forever. Deaton said that a dose of letharia vulpina can weaken the _nogitsune_ without hurting Stiles and that's good." Scott said, his tone hopeful, trying to get a reaction from Lydia.

But there was nothing.

Instead, as he tried to get closer, Lydia slammed her foot on the paint and erased the line, breaking the line. "Lydia, what did you do?" Scott nearly yelled and when he reached her, the moment his hand landed on his shoulder, Lydia turned around and instead of seeing his friend, he was Stiles, the _nogitsune_ standing in front of him.

The _nogitsune_ stood in front of him, painful memories flood through his brain as he saw Stiles' face. Scott didn't want to hurt him. "Oh, Scott," Void began, his tongue clicking and voice raspy. Void pointed to the chair that was mangled and a mess of torn duct tape and snapped rope segments remained on the ground. "Did you really think that tape and rope is going to keep me caged? Keep me from escaping?"

Scott stood still and he didn't move a muscle. "Okay, we can do this the easy way, Stiles or Void or whoever you are!" he yelled, breathing deep as he dug his nails into his hand. "Go back inside the Devil's Trap."

Void playfully tapped his chin. "And why would I do that?" Scott gritted his teeth and slowly, in front of him, Void changed appearance and morphed into Allison.

"I asked you, Scott," somehow, Allison's clothes reeked of other people's sweat, of beer, and of a lizard that smelled like Jackson. His eyes widened. The Kanima during the rave. The fight they had, the one that caused everything to fall apart because he didn't listen to her. "I asked you what you wanted me to do because I can fix it but you didn't listen to me." Suddenly, Allison had a cross bow and aimed it at him.

She fired and he felt pain. He screamed in agony as it burned. There was probably wolfsbane. " _What do you want me to do? I can— **I** can fix it. Please, please, Scott._ " The memory of Allison begging him to listen was replaying itself over and over again.

And he just left her. " _Just stay out of the way_." He said coldly as he left her in the ocean of people, alone with Matt Daehler.

"So that's what I'm gonna do, Scott." Void's voice morphed back into Stiles' and when he looked up, he saw his best friend's face, all pale with redness enveloping his eyes. "I'll stay out of your way because _you_ won't be in the way." Void said as if it was simple enough to understand. "I'll kill you."

Scott watched as Void grew claws and stabbed him, his stomach bleeding black and fast. There was so much blood.

 _Pain_.

Then, as Scott had his hand over his bleeding wound and continued to apply pressure, Void morphed into Stiles. The real Stiles.

"You left me!" Stiles spat out the minute any trace of Void was gone. "You just left me alone to find our parents, choosing to give your life up!" Scott shook his head and when he opened his mouth to answer back, to defend and explain himself, his voice was lost. "I fucking mourned you and all you could think about was Allison!"

Scott shook his head. "No, no, that's not true. I care for you, too. You're important to me, Stiles, you're my brother!" but Stiles had none of it.

"Then who did you want to find when the _nogitsune_ took Allison? Your best friend? Or your stupid girlfriend who turned on you and things went bad? Your girlfriend whose mom almost suffocated you with poisonous wolfsbane?"

Scott's throat felt itchy. "I needed to find her, Stiles. She was injured and I can't lose her, not again." Scott tried to explain, going on defensive.

But Stiles exploded in anger. "See?" Stiles pointed at him and he felt guilt and anger. "It's always Allison, it's always your girlfriend and not your best friend— _your brother_ —who stood by your side in every waking minute of this werewolf shebang! You chose the girl who broke your heart a million times," Stiles' anger reached the boiling point and glared at him as his voice broke. "You chose to worry about her when Gerard had me kidnapped and tortured! You chose _Allison_ and not the person who stood by you when your father walked out of your dumb and pathetic life!" Stiles spat her name out like it was poison.

Scott couldn't control his anger. "At least she didn't get me bitten by some random werewolf!"

Stiles scoffed at him. "So, that's how we stand, eh?" he said as Scott glared at his friend. "It's always Allison and it's never dear old Stiles." Scott had enough of the taunting as he curled his fingers into a fist and tried to punch Stiles but he missed.

 _Strife_.

Somehow, Stiles managed to get the upperhand in the fight by hitting him in the head before he was kicked him to the ground. Someone was screaming in the background, crying, though Scott didn't know who it was and he didn't care enough to find out as Stiles' foot came kicking on his stomach where the wound was still tender.

He cried out in pain as he heard footsteps and floor boards creaking. There was yelling and more shouting and there was a gunshot. Scott felt his body lose control and limp as long brown and shaggy hair met him.

"Come on, Scott, snap out of it. Get up, get up." Then, all of a sudden, the basement was filled with people. Scott could their chemo-signals and recognize their scents. He even heard the sound of their breathing and their heart beats. Scott was confused as he was grabbed unto Sam Winchester's hand to get up.

"What are you guys doing here? When did you get here?" Scott couldn't believe that people managed to get in the basement without him knowing. He glared at the nogitsune who watched everyone with a smirk. "You!" Scott wanted to charge up to Void and beat him senseless but Sam held him tight and Dean yelled at him.

As he calmed down Deaton went to him and pressed a cold compress on his head. Scott winced when it stung. "Calm down, Scott." Deaton said gently but firmly. Scott felt his chest lighter and he began breathing normally. "Listen, you've been hit, Scott." Deaton held up his flashlight, as if asking for permission to use it. Scott gulped and nodded. "Okay, so you have a slight concussion and I need you to rest tonight, okay?" Deaton placed a supporting hand on his shoulder. "You're going to be okay."

Scott looked confused and his eyes landed in the corner of the stairs were Lydia stood, her knees trembling and her fingers shaking. Then, every memory came rushing back to him and as swiftly as he remembered, he felt guilt. "Lydia, I'm so sorry." But she looked away as she dropped the metal baseball bat that had blood on it. His blood.

Lydia left and went upstairs. Scott locked eyes with Isaac and he nodded, running after Lydia to make sure she's safe and taken care of, with someone to look after her.

Scott was left with Argent, Allison, the Winchesters, Dr. Deaton, Noshiko, Ken, Kira, and the Sheriff.

There was an awkward silence until Argent coughed to try and ease the heavy atmosphere. "So, Scott, what do you remember?" suddenly, everyone was looking at him.

Scott squirmed uncomfortably as he met Allison's worried glance. "Not much really." He confessed taking the cold compress from Deaton. "This doesn't help, actually." Scott said with a small chuckle to try and lift everyone's mood but it failed. He cleared his throat and breathed in deep. "I guess I remember Void playing tricks with my mind, making me see people and then, somehow, he got out and started beating me up."

Everyone exchanged worried looks.

Scott didn't miss the gesture shared by those around him and as his brows furrowed in confusion. "Scott," Allison began, showing him a video on her phone using an application that connected it to the CCTV camera of the clinic. Scott took the phone out of her hands and clicked the play button and watched as he went crazy and began hitting himself and inched closer to their Lydia before she grabbed a bat and when Sam stopped him from killing himself. "This is all you."

"What?" Scott shook his head and looked at Void who smirked at him.

"Oh, believe her, Scottie." Void taunted. "The visions if your dearest Allison shooting you with a crossbow and Stiles mocking you? Got to say that it was my trick but the whole fight club sequence?" Void chuckled darkly and grinned maniacally. "That was all you, buster. A thousand applause, Scott."

Scott shook his head and glared at Void. "No, you're playing tricks on me again. I know it!" he yelled and looked expectantly at everyone to believe him but no one did until Deaton took a step forward with an injection filled with green liquid.

Scott balked and took a step back. His body moved with fear and although he has no idea what it was, it felt like poison to even look at.

"Let's finish this chapter once and for all." Deaton said before turning around to face the nogitsune, whose smirk had fallen off his lips. "Dean, Samuel, shall we?" Deaton gestured towards the _nogitsune_. Void scrambled and started squirming when the Winchester brothers held him down while Deaton delivered a dose of the green stuff in the crook of Stiles' neck.

 _Letharia vulpina,_ a small voice whispered to him. Scott turned around to see if anyone said that but nobody did. Instead, Allison gave him a worried look and asked him if he was okay. Instead of asking around, Scott just gave her a tight smile as he turned back to watch as Void was screaming in pain. _Stay away from the poison_ , a snake like voice hissed at him.

"Aah!" Scott yelped and hissed in pain as his hand flew to the crook of his neck. People looked at him again and he shrugged. "It's a mosquito." He said and as he opened his hand, he found a dead firefly.

Then, the screaming stopped and Scott looked at Void. He was no longer pale and sickly. There was a healthy shade of pink on his skin and the Sheriff smiled and gave a teary laugh. "Stiles!" Sheriff said as the man in the chair looked up, the familiar whiskey eyed boy looked up.

"Dad?" Stiles said groggily as he looked around. "What's happening?"

Noshiko stepped forward and took her knife out and Sheriff Stilinski's eyes narrowed and held his hand up. "Hold on, hold on, is this really necessary?" Noshiko waved him off and broke the knife with her bare hands. A few seconds passed and suddenly, a shadow started to form beside Kira.

"Don't worry, Sheriff Stilinski, this knife is not for your son." She said grimly as the oni went straight for Stiles and stared long at him. Scott had this urge to yell the _oni_ , wanting to tell it to do something about Stiles, to warn the people about the _nogitsune_ because Void is still there.

Scott gritted his teeth as he tensed up because he could still feel the shadows, he could still see the darkness and the people around him did nothing as the oni, by some force of nature, wiped off the paint and broke the Devil's Trap.

Then, there was a hand on his shoulder. Scott turned around and saw Allison giving him a smile. "How are you holding up?" she asked as the _oni_ left Stiles on the ground sleep talking, muttering something about popping one too many Adderall.

"Something's wrong." He said immediately and Allison's eyes landed on his head injury.

"Yeah, you're still bleeding." She noted, worry evident in her tone when, in front of them, Noshiko gave a everyone a solemn look, her lips pursed and sighed.

"Your friend's cured." Sheriff Stilinski sighed and went over to hug Stiles.

"About time you're all fixed, Stiles," Sheriff muttered as he helped his son up.

Scott remained on his spot and saw Noshiko and Dr. Deaton exchange a look when Allison stood in front of him. "Aren't you going to greet him?" she asked and he sighed, shaking his head as a response.

"I'm kinda feeling dizzy, actually." He said. It wasn't a lie, though. Scott did feel his head splitting into two. "I want to head home," Scott gave Stiles and his father a passing glance. "I'm heading home, you want to catch a ride with me?" Scott asked, barely masking an edge to his voice.

Stiles looked like he wanted to but Dr. Deaton spoke up. "Actually, if it's not too much trouble, I'd like to do a series of examinations, to make sure that he's alright." Sheriff nodded and thanked Dr. Deaton as Argent muttered his agreement. "But you're free to go, Scott. In fact, with that concussion of yours, I'd recommend that you rest."

"Alright." Scott said, heading upstairs when Allison caught up with him.

"Hey, you need a ride?" Scott cursed under his breath when he remembered that he drove Lydia to the clinic in her car. He left his bike at school. "It's no trouble, Dad and I can drop you off," she offered but he shook his head.

Scott scratched the back of his head nervously, unsure of how to approach her offer. "I was thinking of catching a ride with my Mom." Scott's eyes widened. "Oh, shit! Mom. . .oh, she's gonna be so worried," Scott tried to find his phone around the clinic when Allison stopped him, placing a hand on his chest.

"Don't worry, we filled your mom in on the situation. She's at the hospital finishing her shift." Scott started breathing normally and closed his eyes, a stinging feeling greeting him. "Come on, it's okay. Let's get you home."

* * *

Allison's car was parked in front of his house. "Thanks for the, uhm, ride." Scott fidgeted with his seat belt awkwardly and breathed out.

Allison gave a breathy laugh. "You know, you don't have to be so awkward around me, Scott," she said, her heart beat telling him that it's genuine, that she meant him. "You broke up with me," there was this heavy atmosphere again and Scott looked away until he noticed her chemo-signal.

Allison felt guilty.

"I mean, I broke up with you once, too." Scott shook his head and removed his seat belt, leaning in to pull her into a hug.

"Listen, that's not your fault, Allison. Don't beat yourself up because of it." Allison gave him a sad smile and unlocked the door.

"Go get some rest, Scott." He smiled at her and pressed his lips against her temple and took in her scent, relaxing him and giving the strength and sanity to continue on his crusade in defeating the _nogitsune_ even if it's fooled everyone.

Scott got out the car and Allison revved the engine when he turned around. She rolled down one of the windows and he smiled. "Just to be clear, we didn't break up." Allison smiled wistfully and looked at him fondly. "And besides, this mess? The _nogitsune_ and all that? It'll be over soon." He promised as Allison shook her head.

"Rest." She said and pointed at the house. "Go."

Scott waved goodbye and waited until Allison had disappeared over the curb. He slowly made his way into the house, staring deeply into the windows as if he was waiting for something to appear.

Eventually, Scott went inside and into the kitchen. He wrapped a clean kitchen towel around a plastic bag filled with ice cubes. "Aah," he sighed in relief as he pressed it against the aching spot near his eye. He left a note and posted it on the refrigerator door with magnet for his mom to see before heading up.

Scott watched the shadows and continued walking until he reached his room. He plopped down on his bed and stared at his ceiling, everything around him was quiet. "I know you're there, Void." Scott said to no one in particular before a shadow-y figure emerged from the corner of his room.

Void smiled, his face eerily similar to Stiles. "Hey, Scottie." He grinned maniacally. Scott closed his eyes and cried, his breathing rushed and uneven. "You've given me chaos, strife, and pain. Thanks for that."


End file.
